Teenagers
by Hammsters
Summary: Erin FitzGerald had one fatal flaw: her fear of kids her age. So the last thing she needed was to get stuck on an island full of teenagers and one lunatic with his eye on her. And not in a good way. Romance including one of our favorite loveable losers! COMPLETE!
1. Teenagers

**Hello Fanfictioners! It is I, Hammsters, here to present you with a new story! The summary wasn't so great, so here's a more detailed one.**

**Summary: Erin FitzGerald (aka, me), a shy girl who may very well be afraid of her own shadow, crashes onto an island during her first plane ride. Not the best way to start out. Without having her ever-constant friends from home by her side, she's absolutely scared out of her wits. She manages to work up the courage to befriend everyone's favorite lovable losers, but can't really say the same for anyone else. What will she do to survive the splitting of the groups and worse, the death of a friend?**

**Quick description of Erin: Curly brown, auburn, and blonde hair that stops shortly below her shoulders. 5'4" tall. Afraid of Planes, Boats, teenagers, and sharp pointy objects. Big feet, comparitively small hands. Blue eyes, chubby-ish cheeks, and light freckles.**

**Song: Teenagers by My Chemical Romance**

**Okay, so that's about it. I hope you like it, here it is!**

* * *

><p><strong>They're gonna clean up your looks<br>****With all the lies in the books  
><strong>**To make a citizen out of you  
><strong>**Because they sleep with a gun  
><strong>**And keep an eye on you, son  
><strong>**So they can watch all the things you do.**

"Erin, it's time to wake up." I hear a voice. I roll onto my side, squash the pillow over my ears, and groan.

'Go away," I mumble.

"It's time for school, get up, get up, get up," My mom walks out and slams my bedroom door shut. I sigh and sit up. _Well, at least it's the last day of school. After this, nothing but sweet, sweet vacation. And some sunburns that will probably never fully heal, but let's forget that insignificant little detail. _I smile as I look at the end of my bed. In place of the boring white blouse and black, gray, and white slop of a skirt that calls itself a school uniform is my favorite t-shirt and super short-shorts. The shirt is dark gray with a pissy looking cartoon black cat on it that says MOODY in big black block letters at the top. It suddenly clicks in my brain. Last day= dress down/7th grade class picnic. Yes!

**Because the drugs never work  
><strong>**They're gonna give you a smirk  
><strong>**Cuz they've got methods of keeping you clean  
><strong>**They're gonna rip up your heads,  
><strong>**Your aspirations to shreds  
><strong>**Another cog in the murder machine.**

After changing and scarfing down some burnt toast, I charge out the door happily. Well, semi-happily. After all, I _am _MOODY. Heheh, bad pun. I stroll down the sidewalk whistling to myself when I see a large group of people at the end of the street that make me stop in my tracks. Oh no, LT (Lyons Township High School) is having a late arrival day. What is that, ten this month?

**They said all teenagers scare the living shit out of me  
>They could care less as long as someone'll bleed<br>So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose  
>Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me.<strong>

Pardon my British, but I hate bloody fucking teenagers! They're scary (that last sentence is to be read in a tiny mousy voice FYI). I mean sure, I'm a teenager, and my older sister's a teenager, but we don't count. She's nineteen, so technically, she's an adult, and I can't very well be afraid of MYSELF! Other teenagers gots some bad mojo going on though. All sulky and angry looking, listening to their Metallica and Linkin Park. All though, LInkin Park doesn't count, cuz I listen to that too. But they listen to all those creepy Hollywood Undead songs too! Bad mojo dudes. Bad. Mojo. I'm dead silent as I walk past them, making sure to keep at least two feet between me and the nearest LT kid, even though it means walking on my neighbors grass. I cross the street and am finally free of them. There, one bus stop down, only two to go.

**The boys and girls in the clique,  
>The awful names that they stick<br>You're never gonna fit in much kid  
>But when you're troubled and hurt<br>What you've got under your shirt  
>Will make them pay for the things they did. <strong>

I've finally reached my school, Saint Francis Xavier Elementary School (SFX) and turn into the area where all the too-cool-to-be-seen-with-the-spazzy-6th-grade-and-under-toddlers middle schoolers wait to be let into the school. I'm walking past a group of boys towards my friends when I hear this annoying spazzy chick who everyone seems to love shout, "Sharon!" I know, I know, my name is Erin, not Sharon, but try explaining that to the kids in my grade. It all started with some kids Ozzie Osborne impression, they noticed how much being called by the wrong name bugged me, and then it just stuck. Only two people in the whole grade call me by my real name now, my friends Julia and Fiona. Oh joy. You know what's great about being in middle school? Teenagers as far as the eye can see. *Sarcasm.*

**They said all teenagers scare the living shit out of me  
>THey could care less as long as someone'll bleed<br>So darken your clothes or strike a violent pose  
>Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me.<strong>

I walk up to the large group of girls lurking dangerously close to the snot-nosed little kids, greeted by a chorus of "Sharon!" Sigh, so my day begins.

* * *

><p>You know what really, truly sucks about going to a Catholic School? Every week, we have a stupid all-school mass. We have to wear stupid service-day t-shirts over our dress down clothes so we're joined as a whole school, and not individuals, God forbid. Today won't be so bad though, I guess. They're announcing the winner of the Barbara Snopek scholarship, which is a pretty big deal for us 7th graders. The scholarship goes to a model student in the 7th grade and puts $1,000 to their 8th grade tuition. Everyone wants to get that award, and I mean everyone. Of course, it's always really obvious who's going to get it. For example, I would never get it because I have too many late assignments and demerits, and even my mega high grades can't make up for that. But I know one person who I'm confident will win by a landslide.<p>

"And now everybody, it's time to announce this year's winner of the Barbara Snopek scholarship." Ms. Rodde, the school principal announces. She pulls out a slip of paper and reads the name scrawled on it. "Julia Martin! Julia, can you come up hear?" My friend Julia, who is currently sitting next to me, looks dumb-stuck. Her eyes are wide in total disbelief. She stumbles out of the pew and walks up to the front of the church to get the award. Everyone applauds as she walks up. Her mom goes up to her and hands her a card, apparently I'm not the only one who saw this coming from a mile away. Julia comes back to her seat, grinning from ear to ear.

"Nice job," I whisper. She smiles more.

The mass ends and we Julia, Fiona and I march up all three floors to the constant sound of people saying "Good job Hules," and high-fiving Julia. The smile on her face seems to be permanently glued there. We walk back to our homeroom, line up, and the moment we've all been waiting for arrives: the class picnic.

* * *

><p>Well, the picnic was... fun. As expected, people occasionally commented on my t-shirt.<p>

_"Hey Sharon, are you moody?" A strawberry blonde boy asks me._

_"Yes Rory, yes I am," I comment, not breaking stride as me and my friends walk past._

_"Well that's not a good thing to be."_

_"Of course it is!"_

Good times. There were a bunch of adorable little brothers and sisters of kids in my grade. Tyler's little sister came up to me and my friends and had us play with her for about an hour. She was down-right adorable. And Julia, Fiona and I played Cherry Cherry with MaryClaire and Alex, two of our other friends. There was one point when the person who was it said 'cherry cherry' while I was running for the swing-set, and I shouted 'SHIT!' extremely loud. In front of a bunch of little kids and a teacher. Yea, not my finest moment. Anyways, it doesn't matter now, cuz school's out and summer's in! Tomorrow, we leave for Ireland! Woohoo, my first time being out of the country! Then the terrible truth suddenly hits me like a train. We have to take a plane to Ireland. Oh God, not good. This should be fun. Not.

**Huh? So how was it? Erin actually is based on me, Julia and Fiona are based on my friends Julia and Fiona, and all the people in this chapter are real, living breathing people I know, and the events in it actually happened. But, anyways, pleeeeeaaaaaaase review this story and tell me what you think, I've got big plans up ahead!**


	2. Great, More Teenagers

**Hiya everybody! I'm a little disappointed that I haven't gotten any reviews yet. Please do that for this chapter if you get the chance! I already have a few written so this story will be continued whether you like it or not. But I'd prefer if you liked it. I know that looking at this chapter you probably don't wanna read it cuz the paragraphs are long and all that shit, but later there will be more dialogue, especially in the next few chapters. Just so you know, Erin is a shy girl and won't talk to some of the more central characters like in other stories. This is basically centered mostly around Erin, Piggy, SImon, and the abundant littluns. Anyways, now that that's out of the way, read on!**

I wake up to the sound of crashing waves and the hot sun beating down on me. I open my eyes and sit up slowly, groaning in pain. _Why am I so freaking sore?_ I vaguely remember the plane crashing, the way it spiraled when the wing was torn off, the flames, the screams. It was like a terrible nightmare, right out of a horror flick. My clothes are badly torn and my skin is covered in 3rd degree burns. I'm drenched in sea water and completely caked in dirt, soot, and sand. Judging from the soreness all over my body, I've been here for hours. Later, I'm either gonna have a killer tan or a monster sunburn. My money's on the sunburn, I'm the third palest person in my entire gigantic family and most summers I can't tan to save my life. I run a freakishly small (well, in comparison to my mega ginormous feet) hand through my too-thick-for-my-own-good hair. The normally soft, neat brown locks are matted, sweaty, and utterly hideous.. You can't even see the prominent glints of auburn and blonde that normally shine where the sun bounces off them.. Ew. _First order of business: find pond. Wash hair. _I rise to my feet, wobbling and more than slightly unbalanced, and begin my quest for clean hair. I make my way through the trees, tripping over branches and bushes. The woods around me are dead silent. That is, until I step practically knee-deep in mud (ruining my favorite green Converse in the process) and groan, "What the HELL?" I continue stumbling around for a few minutes, grumbling inwardly about the death of my shoes. Suddenly, I hear a loud _snap!_ from behind me and stop dead in my tracks. My breathing gets a little faster, my thoughts race. _What the hell was that? Was it an animal? What if it's a savage? Omigod, WHAT IF IT'S A FUCKING CANNIBAL? _I begin to hyperventilate slightly. I soon hear the steady hum of voices growing closer. I turn, still stiff as a board. The leaves in fron of me rustle and a blade slices through the branches. A tall, admittedly handsome, blonde boy and a pudgy boy with glasses step out. The blonde sees me and waves with the hand holding the blade.

"Hi!" I hyperventilate even more, then let out a peircing 'don't go in the closet!' horror movie scream and take off sprinting away. I can hear the boys following me, the pudgy one huffing and puffing like the big not-so-bad wolf. THey seem to be falling behind, thank you three years or Track and Field, but I haven't seen them since I went running for the hills. Or, if you wanna be technical about it, the dunes. I look back behind me to see. Fatal mistake. My gunboats (a.k.a, my giant feet) get all tangled up and I faceplant in the hot sand. I prop myself up on my elbows and spit out the sand. I feel like someone's standing behind me. "Are you all right?" A deep-ish voice asks. I flip over onto my back and see the blonde boy, the pudgy boy huffing and puffing slightly behind. My eyes lock on the knife and I begin to hyperventilate again. He realizes what I'm freaking out about and drops the blade. "It's okay! I'm not gonna hurt you," He assures me. "That was just for cutting through the trees. Do you need a hand?" He holds out his hand and, I take it, and he helps me to my feet.

"Thanks," I say shyly. He grins.

"No problem," The pudgy boy reaches us and the three of us begin to walk. We soon reach a small pond and it takes all my self-control not to dive in and start washing my victimized locks. The blonde boy apparently doesn't have my control. He begins tearing off his clothes, preparing to jump in. I clap my hands over my eyes the second he foes for his shorts. Man this kid is bold!

"Ralph!" The pudgy boy exclaims in shock. "There's a girl here!" I nod to emphasize his reminder.

"Oh, right, sorry!" The boy, apparently Ralph, says. I uncover my eyes and see him dressed and blushing furiously. I feel heat flood my hace, but I'm not completely sure , the pudgy kid's eyes light up and he points to the opposite end of the pond.

"A conch! It's a conch! I knew a boy who had one of them! You can blow through it and call the other people!" He exclaims, pointing to a pretty shell. The kind of shell I've been searching for all 13 years of my existence. Ralph dives into the depths fully clothed and swims to the shell. He shakes the water out of his hair like a golden retriever and presses the conch to his lips. A deep, bellowing sound escapes, bot quite like a trumpet, more like a bass clarinet, a tuba, and a french horn mutant instrument. Hmm... when I get back I'll need to talk to the school band teacher about changing instruments.

After a few minutes, thirty or more boys have joined us, ten of which can't be any older than seven. Aww, I love little kids! The rest are around my age. I'm not at all worried about all of them being boys. That's the last thing on my mind. In fact, I could beat a couple of them shitless form the looks of their scrawny little chicken arms. Nope, I only have one thought on my typically overactive mind. _Great. More teenagers._

**There. I figure that's a pretty decent chapter. It could be worse! I apologize for Ralph's stupidity, just wanted to have a little goofiness in there. So, yea, pretty pretty pretty please review it would make my millenium!**


	3. Introductions

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you guys made me really happy. As a reward, I'm posting a super long chapter. You get to see two sides of Erin, the babysitter side, and the mega ginormous NAP (Nerdy And Proud) side. Yay. I have one more chapter already written after this one, so review and it shall be posted. Nothing left to say, so, ENJOY!**

Once the boys have all settled in, Ralph stands up on a platform-like surface made up of rocks and branches. The boys all sit on fallen tree logs and I sit in the shade next to the pudgy kids. Ralph begins to speak, clutching the conch shell delicately.

"Um, hi. I'm Ralph. I called you all here to see who survived the plane crash, where we are, and if we're on an island, figure out how we're gonna survive here." As he's speaking, about a dozen boys in black army-like uniforms and capes come out of the jungle. Three boys in particular catch my attention: a redhead that bears a striking resemblance to a boy in my class named Jack Melone, an angry looking brunette with brown eyes so dark they almost appear to be black, and a rather skinny boy with fair skin nearly as pale as my porcelain colored skin and a shock of messy black hair. His overall casual, laidback appearance sets him apart from the well-groomed, strict looking boys surrounding him. The red-headed boy bounds up to the platform. While he may look like my classmate, he's ten times as handsome and far less mean looking. It's times like these when I think it's a damn shame that gingers have no souls. The boy begins talking to Ralph, something about a man with a trumpet or whatever, but I"m not paying attention to them. My focus is on the black-haired boy, who's currently teetering this way and that, looking like he's about to pass out. Wait a second. Back track and scratch that, not about to, he just did. Give a prize to the lucky psychic! The caped boys, who were previously in two perfect straight lines, fall out of formation and surround him, as do all the other boys. Well, except for the red-head.

"Ignore him, he's always doing that," He says passively. Regardless of their instructions, a few of the uniformed boys lift the unconscious boy and set him down in the shade next to me. He soon begins to stir slightly and everyone goes back to their seats.

"Well, since their aren't any adults around here, I think it would be best if we chose a leader." Ralph announces.

"It should be me," The red-headed boy says. "I'm the leader of the choir and I can sing a C-sharp." I hardly stifle a laugh. Since when is that the trait of a strong leader buddy? I feel the urge to yell, 'Dude, I can sing a D-sharp! Beat that!' but I don't cuz, despite six years of church choir, I have no idea what a D-sharp sounds like.

"Well I think it should be the kid with the shell!" One of the boys that isn't in the choir yells. A few others shout out in agreement.

"Let's hold a vote," Ralph suggests. The boys nod. The red-head looks a little put out, but still congident, and doesn't say anything. "All in favor of him?" Ralph gestures to the red-headed boy. The choir obediently raises their hands and Ralph counts them. "All in favor of me?" The pudgy boy, the groggy but now conscious choir boy, the little boys, everyone else and I raise our hands. Ralph counts them, even though he doesn't really need to. It's pretty clear who won. "Well, I guess I'm chief then," He says, smiling bashfully. "I think that we should go around and say our names and ages first of all. I'm Ralph and I'm 14," The red-head is the next to speak.

"My name is Jack Merridew and I'm also 14," Haha! Jack M. looks like Jack M.! He just made my day.

"I'm 13 and my name is-" The pudgy boy next to me starts. Jack interrupts him.

"Fatty!" He shouts. _Jerk._

"No it's not, it's Piggy!" Ralph corrects him. This starts a chorus of boys yelling 'Piggy!', laughing, and oinking at him. I awkwardly pat him on the back. Ralph shushes them. It's quiet for a while and then I realize it's my turn.

"Oh, um I'm Erin F-F-FitzGerald and I'm 13," I stutter shyly.

"What was that?" Ralph asks.

"I'm Erin FitzGerald and I'm 13" I repeat, louder this time. The boys all stare at me as if I'm the strangest creature they've ever seen. It's dead silent. Instead of introducing himself, the black-haired boy beside me looks dazed, deep in thought. Jack comes over and thumps him on the back of the head, hard. The boy yelps slightly and rubs the back of his head.

"I'm Simon and I'm 13," He says, glaring daggars at Jack. Jack gives him a warning look and he stares at his feet. The boys finish introducing themselves (I learn that the creepy looking brown haired boy I saw earlier is named Roger and is my age. He already looks like bad news to me.) and look to Ralph expectantly.

"So um, now that that's out of the way we should figure out if this is an island or not. So uh, Jack and Simon, do you wanna look around with me?" The two boys nod and hop to their feet and the three of them exit into the forest. The boys scatter along the beach and the little boys swarm around me. Two step forward as representatives of the group.

"My name is Percival," a brown-haired little boy says.

"And I'm Willie," a little boy with a mulberry colored birthmark says. "Will you play with us?" They have to be some of the sweetest little kids I've ever met. They remind me of my neighbor, a little boy I used to babysit all the time, Leo.

"Of course I will. What are the rest of your names?" I ask. They proceed to introduce themselves. "Okay, what do you wanna play sweeties?"

"Hide and seek, hide and seek!" Willie shouts.

"I love that game! But I have to warn you, I'm a pretty darn good seeker," I tell them.

"You seek first please," A little boy named Johnny says. I smile.

"What should I count to?" I ask.

"A million bajillion!" Percival exclaims. I gasp.

"A million bajillion? That sure is a lot. How's twenty?" The boys nod. "One, two, three..." The little boys scatter, shrieking and giggling as they go. I laugh to myself as I count to twenty. Once I reach the last number, I begin my search for them. I soon see a certain brown-haired boy hiding behind a tree. I sneak up from behind and tickle him under the arms like I would with my little cousins. Percival squeals with laughter and tries to tickle me back. I lift him high up in the air and twirl him around as he giggles. I put him down and he helps me find the rest of the boys. Once they've all been found, they surround me in a big herd like they did before.

"What d'we do now Erin?" Willie asks. I smile, thinking about my younger cousins' favorite game.

"I think we should play..." I lift Willie up, "Superman!" I spin him and run him around holding him like Superman. He giggles loudly. Each of the boys takes one turn, then another, then another, all the way up until they've all fallen asleep, I sit on the beach and just watch the waves. SOmebody comes and sits next to me. It's Piggy.

"Mind if I sit with you?" He asks. I shake my head. "So you're the only girl on the island. THat must kinda suck." I nod. "You don't talk much do you?" I shake my head again.

"I'm a bit on the shy side," I say quietly.

"I saw you playing with the littluns earlier. You're certainly not shy around them," he says.

"I have a lot of neighbors and cousins that age and I do a lot of babysitting, so I'm better with kids that age. Teenagers really aren't my speed." I reply.

"They seem to really like you," Piggy points out. I grin.

"Thanks."

"You know, you don't have to be shy around me. I'm sure that I'm far dorkier than you." I laugh. "Really, what's the worst that could happen? You can't exactly embarress yourself in front of a kid people call Piggy."

"You'd be surprised." I say.

"It can't get much worse than being the biggest science nerd in my whole school." I may be wrong, but I think he just insulted my geekiness. That _cannot _be allowed.

"Second place in the school-wide spelling bee, first in my grade."

"I sometimes try to use the force to move the TV remote closer to me when I don't feel like movie."

"I know the exact number of lifeboats on the _Titanic, _how many people each could hold, and how many people were actually in it."

"I know every scene of the third 'Star Wars' movie word for word." He says.

"I wiggle my nose and ears like a bunny rabbit." I reply, wiggling both for emphasis.

"I used to play Pokemon," He admits.

"I read Twilight twice and loved it." I say.

"I'm a Trekkie." He says.

"Woah, can't really our-nerd that." I say, admitting defeat. "Well played geek-off."

"If you lose a _geek-off_ to someone, I really don't think you have to worried about embarressing yourself in front of them."

"Good point. I hereby announce that I shall not be shy in front of you. Just everyone else." Piggy chuckles.

"Good." I yawn loudly.

"I'm goin' to sleep, I'm dead tired." I announce.

"'Kay, good night Erin," he replies.

"Night Piggy," I say. I march off to the trees and am asleep within seconds.

**So, you gotta give me my props, it wasn't _terrible. _In fact, I think it went pretty well. Hopefully you agree. I noticed that most people don't include Piggy much in their stories, so I decided to make him and Erin the bestest of friends. In the next chapter, the duo becomes a trio, joined by our other favorite loveable loser! Bet you all know who that is, haha. So, yea, review if you wants more! Peace to my peeps!**


	4. Meeting Simon

**Hellos everyone! Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you all made me really happy (Enked, yours made me especially happy :D). We get to meet Simon in this chapter, which is exciting news in my personal opinion. Erin is a little more outgoing in this chapter with Simon than she will be around the other biguns besides Piggy, so sorry if it's a little out of character. There's two chapters until all the drama really starts, I know that's starting kinda early, but I have a lot of plans so this story will probably not be too short. I'm hoping that I'll get more reviews for this chapter, so if your reading this no matter who you are or what you thought I want you to review it. And respond to my poll. Anyways here's the story.**

**Simon: Aren't you forgetting something?  
>Hammsters: Uh, I don't think so<br>Jack: Yea, you are forgetting something  
>Hammsters: Go away Jack, no one wants you here.<br>Simon: Well that wasn't very nice  
>Jack: Hey! I thought I was your favorite!<br>Hammsters: Correction, you got bumped to my second favorite, Simon's my favorite now. Besides, you're the bad guy in this story so no one likes you.  
>Jack: NOt cool.<br>Simon: Anyways, just say it.  
>Hammsters: Never.<br>Roger: Say it  
>Hammsters: NO. And go away Roger, you scare me a little bit, even if you are my third favorite.<br>Erin: Ugh, I'll say it. Hammsters (who is a slightly more annoying and stubborn version of me) owns nothing except for me and the idea for this particular story. Now let's get onto said story shall we?**

I stumble through the trees in search of the littluns and Piggy. Why I agreed to play Sardines with them, I have no idea. Who plays Sardines on an island? Who I ask you, WHO? Now here I am, getting clawed at by branch after branch. I feel very exposed to the elements in my super short-shorts, navy blue camisole and short sleeved green shrug. BTW yesterday's prediction was correct, I have fire truck red blotches all over my arms and legs. I'm not even completely burned, I burned I patches like my sister for crying out loud! I can only think of one thing that could make this situation worse. _Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaase don't let there be poison ivy! _I've been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I don't notice the giant palm tree log in my path until it's too late. It hits me in the shins and I begin hurdling down towards the ground. Just as I'm about to face-plant for the second time in two days, someone grabs my shoulders and yanks me back to my feet.

"Are you all right?" Whoever it is asks. I look up and see the black-haired boy, Simon, standing a foot or two away. I didn't notice before, but he's actually kinda cute. Not exactly Abercrombie&Fitch material, but cute in like a slightly dorky way. You know, adorable. I nod.

"Yea, thanks." I say kinda quietly.

"No problem. Just out of curiosity, what are you doing out here all by yourself?" he asks curiously.

"I was playing Sardines with the Piggy and the littluns. I think I'm the last one still looking." I explain.

"Do you want me to help you look?"

"I appreciate the offer, but aren't you supposed to be hunting?" I ask, eyeing his spear and the black, brown, red, and white war paint on his face that he's absently trying to rub off.

"I think I'll pass on that. I don't want to hunt, never did, but Jack made me go. He said it was the whole choir's job to get food for everyone. I think he was just hoping for the opportunity to embarrass me." He explains.

"Okay then," I say. We search for the hiding children in silence for a minute or two.

"That's a cool bracelet," he comments, pointing to the string tied around my wrist. It's an aquamarine colored braid with beads and miniature sea shells braided in.

"Thanks." I say. "It's supposed to be for good luck, but seeing as our plane crashed, I don't think it's doing its job very well." Simon chuckles softly.

"No, I don't think it is. So where are you from?"

"Suburbs of Chicago, how 'bout you?" I say.

"Just outside of Springfield. Everyone in the choir is from there," he says.

"Aw that's so cool!" I exclaim. "Do you ever go to the Lincoln Museum?"

"I love that place!" He says.

"So do I!" I agree. "I went to Springfield over spring break and that museum was like, one of the best parts of the trip!" Simon and I talk about the highlights of the Lincoln Museum for a while, then the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago, then art museums and art, onto our favorite artists and somehow wind up talking about Jim Gaffigan. "I gotta say, Hot Pockets are my favorite Jim Gaffigan jokes. That part of the show is a masterpiece!" I say. He shakes his head.

"No, the bacon jokes are the best by far." Simon insists. " 'Even the sound bacon makes when it's being made sounds like applause. Yay! Yay Bacon!' " he quotes.

" 'Now they have a breakfast Hot Pocket. FINALLY! Now you can have a Hot Pocket for breakfast, a Hot Pocket for lunch and be dead by dinner.' "I counter with a Hot Pocket quote.

" 'I love how at the end of every buffet there's a giant plate of bacon. It's the promised land! And then you begin to regret everything on your plate. What is this? Fruit? What do I need fruit for?'"

" 'Now Hot Pockets come with instructions on the back. Take out of box, put directly in toilet.' " In addition to the quote, I act out putting a Hot Pocket in the toilet like Jim Gaffigan does. Simon laughs.

"Yea, that's a pretty good one, but can it top this?" He's about to begin quoting another joke when I hear a sound coming from the bushes.

"Sh! She's coming!" I look to Simon.

"Did you hear that?" He nods.

"I think we found your friends." He tells me. I smile mischeviously.

"Let's scare 'em," I suggest. He grins devilishly. I tell him my plan, he nods, and disappears into the jungle. I walk up to the bushes and look behind them. "Found ya!" The little boys and Piggy all stand up.

"How'd you find us?" Willie asks.

"Heard you guys yakkity yakking," I reply. They giggle a little bit.

"Who were you talking to?" Percival asks. I pretend to be confused.

"I wasn't talking to anyone," I lie. THeir eyes get all wide.

"Then who did we hear talking?" Willie asks. I lean in close and whisper:

"Maybe it was a ghost." They gasp.

"Really?" Johnny asks worriedly.

"Are there even ghosts all the way out here?" Willie asks nervously. I nod.

"_Especially _all the way out here. You guys better be careful or they'll come out and..." I start Simon chooses that moment to jump out of the trees, grab one of the boys shoulders and shout,

"Got ya!" The littluns all scream and Simon and I laugh.

"Oooh, we got you guys good." I tease. The boys all begin to laugh with us.

"That was fun!" Percival yells.

"Do it again, do it again!" Willie shouts. The other little boys shout in agreement. I shake my head.

"Sorry boys, it's getting late, you need to eat and go to bed," I say. They all pout.

"We don't want to go to bed," Willie whines. "We wanna play with you and Piggy and Simon."

"Forevers and evers!" Percival adds.

"Sorry guys, but she's right," Simon tells them. "But don't worry, we can all play again tomorrow."

"Promise?" Percival asks.

"Promise." Simon answers. Willie looks at him doubtfully.

"Cross your heart and hope to die, stick a needle in your pie?"

"Stick a needle in your pie?" Piggy asks in confusion. "I thought it was stick a needle in your eye."

"NO silly, that would hurt," Willie answers, giggling.

"Okay, cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my pie." Simon laughs. I walk the boys back to where the group has been staying.

"Good night Erin!" Simon and Piggy both call.

"Good night guys!"

**Wow. This was a very long, very lame chapter. I'm slightly ashamed of myself. Whatever, you've met pretty much all the characters, so who do you think the romance is with?  
>A.) Ralph<br>B.) Jack  
>C.) Piggy<br>D.) Simon  
>E.) Roger<br>Just sos you knows, that last one was a lie.  
>There, now review and tell me who you think the romance is with and what you think of the story and so on and so forth. I really don't care what you say in your review, you could talk about Wimbledon for all I care! Just please review and respond to my poll. Peace out everyone!<strong>


	5. Found a Peanut

**I don't want to sound mean or anything, but I'm slightly disappointed. I've put up four chapters of this story and I still only have eight reviews. That makes me sad. And Simon. And Piggy. And Willie. If anyone has any suggestions as to how I can get more reviews, I would love to hear the. If you're reading this, whether you even have an account or not, I would very much appreciate it if you would review this story. THis chapter's kinda short and goofy, but I just had to toss it in there. In the next chapter, things start to get all dangerous and dramatic and Erin gets put in a very bad position by a certain person who shall remain un-named.  
>Erin: What do you mean I get put in a bad position? (Hammsters whispers something to Erin) Awwww, I don't want that to happen.<br>Hammsters: Too bad, it has to or this story will be really lame.  
>Erin: SHUN!<br>Hammsters: You can't shun me that's my thing! I shun YOU! (Erin gasps and walks away, huffing indignantly.) Hahaha, I win. Anyways, it's all very dramatic, but I need reviews if you want it to be any good. SO review when you finish reading this chapter.**

That night I have trouble falling asleep. After tossing and turning for what feels like an eternity, I give up and go to lie down on the beach. I stare up at the sky, searching in vain for Orion, my favorite constellation. Soon, someone walks up and sits down by my side.

"You can't sleep either huh?" Simon asks. I shake my head.

"Not a wink."

"It's a little discomforting, trying to fall asleep on an island when we have absolutely no idea what's out there." He says. I smirk.

"Aw, are you scared Simon? Don't worry, me and my new best friend Willie will protect you from the big bad beastie." I assure him sarcastically.

"Oh yea, that's real reassuring!" I laugh.

"Isn't it?"

"It's so peaceful out here," he says, changing the subject. "I don't think there's anything that could ruin it." _Wanna bet? _I think.

"I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves, oh everybody's nerves!" I sing.

"Oh don't you start that!" Simon says warningly. I smirk and start a new song.

"Found a peanut, found a peanut, found a peanut just now! Just now I found a peanut, found a peanut just now!" Simon clamps his hand over my mouth. I squirm and try to free myself so I can get to the verse where I kick an angel and go "the other way," but it doesn't do a thing.

"I'll let you go if you promise not to sing that anymore. Do you promise?" I nod. "Okay," He takes his hand off my mouth. I wait a few songs, then begin a different song, one that's twice as annoying.

"100 bottles of beer on the wall, 100 bottles of beer! Take one down, pass it around, 99 bottles of beer on the wall," He grins mischievously.

"Oh, you're _really _asking for it now." He leaps to his feet and tries to pick me up off the ground. I squeal and run away. Simon chases after me, both of us laughing. I run down the beach for a few minutes, unsure if he's close to catching me or not. I look back and almost scream. He's right behind me and gaining ground fast. I pick up the pace and so does he. We run near the camp and see Piggy sitting fully awake by the woods.

"Piggy, help! Simon's being a meany!" Piggy just laughs and so does Simon. I gradually begin to slow down, losing what little fuel I started out with. SImon finally catches up and lifts me up. He may be skinny, but he's taller than me and apparently pretty strong. He's easily able to lift me up and carry me back to the beach. I pound on his chest with my fists. "Simon put me down right now!" I shriek as he chuckles at me attempts to jump out of his arms.. He reaches the beach and walks about knee-deep in the water. Oh, I see what he's doing now. And I don't like it. I cling to his neck for dear life. He releases me and I drop into the water. _If I'm going down, I'm taking him with me!_ I keep hollding on tightly to the back of his neck and he collapses into the water along with me. We both crawl out of the ocean, sopping wet and laughing breathlessly. The waves hit our backs repeatedly, threatening to push us back in. We see Piggy sitting on the beach, staring at us curiously.

"She sang 'Found a Peanut,'" Simon informs him as if that's all the explanation necessary. Piggy continues to give us the same weird look.

"So you dropped her in the ocean?" He asks. Simon nods. "You two have got to be some of the weirdest people I know." We both shrug.

"Then you haven't met anyone cool yet." Simon replies.

"Besides, weird is the same as different which means the same as unique. If it's good to be unique, then it's good to be different and therefore, by extension, it's also good to be weird. Thank you for the compliment Piggy." I say, grinning from ear to ear. They both give me the same weird look that Piggy was giving us just moments ago. I shrug. "Well it's true." Both boys chuckle. "TO hell with you guys, a person can't explain a damn thing to you! You two are hopeless! I'm tired," I announce. "Good night fellas," I go back to my spot in the shade of the palm trees and quickly fall asleep, all tuckered out from running from Simon.

**Okay, sorry. It's not exactly the longest chapter I've written for this story, but I really needed a little goofiness before getting down to the seriousness and danger and _MURDER! _JK, there probably won't be murder, but there very well could be if I was feeling particularly dramatic. I don't think I will be. Anyways, reviews please, and pretty please respond to my poll. See yalls later!**


	6. New Divide

**Well, I'm happy to say that I've gotten more reviews to this story, so yay for all of you! I'm so very happy at the moment. I worked very hard to bring you the longest chapter of this story, and by far the most dramatic. The plot thickens! Well, there really wasn't much of a plot before so... the plot is born! Hehe. There is a little more involvement of characters besides Simon and Piggy, especially Jack and Roger. I really don't have a whole lot to say, so enjoy the story!**

**Oh yea, the song is New Divide by Linkin Park, and I chose it for a reason peoples! You should really listen to it before you read or while you're reading this chapter. THat is all. COntinue with your reading.**

Well, Jack and Ralph have got this "brilliant" plan to create a signal fire at the top of the mountain. They think that if the fire is kept up long enough and if it's big enough, a ship or a plane will see it and we'll be out of this mess lickety split (that's right. That's the word I'm choosing to use.). Hate to be Johnny Rain-cloud and rain on their parade, but I highly doubt that. Plane's fly, what, 30,00 feet in the air? And there's a reef surrounding this place for a mile at least, so a ship could never get close enough to see the fire without running a ground. To create a fire big enough for anyone to see, we'd have to set this whole island on fire. But I say nothing, partly because I can't help but hope that I'm wrong, and partly because I'm afraid to talk to the chief and the head hunter. Okay, so it's mostly because I'm afraid to talk to them, but in my defense, they are intimidating dudes!

**I remember black skies, the lightning all around me  
>I remembered each flash, as time began to blur<br>Like a startling sign that fate had finally found me  
>And your voice was all I heard that I get what I deserve<strong>

Anywho, so now everyone's all psyched about the idea of getting rescued. We're all parading to the top of the hill, everyone running and shouting as they go. Well, almost everyone. Me and mis amigos are straggling behind cuz we're all sticking to the back of the pack with Piggy (a real bummer for me. I'm a runner, a hiker, and the biggest show-off in the world and I would like nothing more than to be at the front showing up as many boys as possible. :-( ). After about five minutes of the big not-so-bad wolf huffing and puffing his brains out and the littluns screaming in my ears until I could hear bells a-ringin', we finally reach the top of the mountain, where the fire building begins. There's a constant hum in the air as boys continue to flap their gums nonstop and Piggy mutters something about this being a bad place for a fire. The other boys ignore him and work on their precious fire. They build an all mighty pile of firewood and try to light it but, surprise surprise, it won't. They grumble and Jack mutters every curese I've ever heard and some entirely new to me. )My sister will throw a shit-fit if she finds out someone was swearing more than her. I'm fairly sure she must've felt a disturbance in the universe.)

**So give me reason, to prove me wrong, to wash this memory clean  
>Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes<br>Give me reason to fill this hole, connect the space between  
>Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies across this new divide<strong>

"I don't think that cussing will make much of a difference," Piggy points out. Jack spins around and shoots him a death glare.

"Shut up Fatty!" he snaps. Suddenly, his ice-blue eyes light up. He's got an idea. He lunges at Piggy and snatches the glasses off his face.

"My 'specs!" Piggy cries. _What a douche bag! _I can't help but think.

"Hey, give those back!" I regret the words as soon as they escape my mouth. I clap my hands over my mouth. Not only did I just speak to Jack Merridew, the boy whose very presence scares the crap out of me on a daily basis, but I yelled at him! Do I have a deeply buried death wish? Jack turns to me and gives me a murderous look. Everything about his manner seems to be a death threat. I gulp. "Please?" I offer quietly. Jack just scowls and sets back to work. He focuses a thin beam of sunlight on the firewood through the glasses. Soon, a thin wisp of smoke floats lazily towards the cloudless sky above. A fire erupts out of the blue. The boys go wild with excitement, dancing around the flames like savages. They don't notice how the fire shifts and grows, consuming everything near enough for it to swallow it up. Sparks drift in the gentle breeze and land on the leaves of the surrounding trees. The forest around us soon bursts into flames.

**There was nothing in sight but memories left abandoned  
>There was nowhere to hide, the ashes fell like snow<br>And the ground caved in between where we were standing  
>And your voice was all I heard, that I get what I deserve<strong>

Ash rains down from the fiery heavens. Chaos possesses the group and countless little boys scream in terror. The boys scatter across the mountain top in search of a way out, then stampede down the hill the way we came. I'm about to follow them when I see Willie running into the trees opposite me. I follow him instead, not wanting a six year old boy to be by himself in the forest, especially during a fire like this.

I sprint through the woods trying to catch up to him, but Willie's running too, and he had a pretty good head start. Soon, I can no longer see him, thanks to my own klutziness, but I still clammer along, trying my best to follow the path I think he took. I'm about to call out his name when I see something that makes me stop dead in my tracks.

**So give me reason to prove me wrong, to wash this memory clean  
>Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes across this new divide<strong>

"Shut up, I said shut up!" A dark voice barks in a cruel whisper. I hear Willie whimper in fear. I peek past a tree in front of me and see Roger holding onto Willie's shoulder with a death grip, a hunting knife raised high in the air. I gasp in spite of myself. Roger's head snaps in my direction, but I duck behind a tree before he can see me. He turns his attention back to Willie, a vicious sneer etched into his pale, evil face. Without even the slightest hesitation, he plunges his knife into the poor, terrified little boy's stomach over and over and over. Willie sinks to his knees, sobbing helplessly. In one fluid motion, Roger drags the edge of the bloodied knife across Willie's neck, slitting his throat. He crumples to the ground, no longer breathing. Roger smiles cruelly. "Nighty night," He whispers in an eerily soft, calm voice. He laughs a booming, deranged laugh and tosses Willie's lifeless body into the raging inferno surrounding him.

**In every loss, in every lie, in every truth that you'd deny  
>And each regret and each goodbye was a mistake too great to hide<br>And your voice was all I heard that I get what I deserve**

I turn away and slump down, my back pressed against the tree. I squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to banish the gruesome scene from my mind but knowing that it's forever burned into my memory. Suddenly, I feel a hand grab the collar of my shirt and I'm hoisted into the air. My eyes fly open and I find myself face to face with none other than Roger. I'm being held up so that I'm level with him, able to look him straight in the eye. He's glaring holes into my forehead. Blood is splattered all over his demonic face and his dark brown eyes are looking particularly black today. I flinch at the sight of him.

"How much did you see?" I simply squeeze my eyes shut and pray that when I open them he'll be gone. It doesn't work. "How much did you see?" He demands. I flinch again.

"N-n-n-n-nothing!" I stutter.

"You know what I think? I think you're lying." He says. I turn my face away. His hand shoots up, grabs my face, turns it to face him and holds it there, his fingernails digging into my skin, drawing blood. I cringe at his touch. "I think you saw everything. Is that true?" He asks, even though I can tell he already know. I nod slowly, a tear rolling down my cheek as I do so. He wipes it away. "That's right, don't lie to me. It'll only make things worse." He leans close to me. "_No one _finds out about this. If yo tell anyone, I'll make sure you and all your precious littluns meet a similar fate." Roger's breath is hot on my neck. His mouth is centimeters from my ear as he threatens me. I try to move away and whimper in fear. He smirks. "Only your death will be much, much slower."

**So give me reason to prove me wrong, to wash this memory clean  
>Let the floods cross the distance in your eyes<br>Give me reason to fill this hole, connect the space between  
>Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies across this new divide<strong>

He releases me and I crash to the jungle floor with a thud. He chuckles darkly and vanishes, leaving me cowering alone in the smoke and ashes.

**Across this new divide, across this new divide.**

* * *

><p><strong>Wowwie wow wowsickles! Roger is MEAN! Who kills a poor innocent littlun for no reason at all? Who I ask you, WHO?<strong>

**Roger: Um, were you not paying any attention when you wrote this? _I _kill innocent littluns for no reasons.  
>Willie: Speaking of which, YOU KILLED ME!<br>Roger: oh, yea, sorry bout that.  
>Willie: I'M FREAKING DEAD AND YOU'RE <em>SORRY? <em>Dude, pardon my french, BUT I'M GONNA FUCKING HAUNT YOUR ASS!  
>Hammsters: Woah nellie! Hold your horsies buckaroo, A little boy shouldn't talk like that<br>Erin: Yea! She based you on the little boy I babysit!  
>Hammsters: No, I based him on the little boy I babysit<br>Erin: Same dif. I'm based on you, so therefore, we both babysit him  
>Hammsters: Whatever, I don't really see why it matters. Anyways, if you want to find out what happens next, you shall review. If you don't really give a damn, you shall review. If you've never even seen this story or haven't read a word on this page, you shall review. As you can see, I'm not at all partial to who reviews. Oh, and while you're at it, respond to my poll too. Seriously, I really need feedback on this story and that life or death poll question. So yea, get to it peoples!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

Hello everybody! I know you will all be extremely annoyed with me for this, but this is not an actual chapter. You see, I'm kinda having writer's block, and haven't updated any of my stories recently. Bear with me, I promise you, I am working on this story, I've just been having trouble concentrating lately. I promise you, I will have it up and running again soon enough, but I've begun the cross country season, and I have to finish my required reading and my math packet for school, which starts in like a week, and my parents have been kicking me off the computer a lot more often recently. I am trying to get the story going again though and I'm sure my writer's block will be gone soon enough. Until then, it would be much appreciated if you would check out my miscellaneous story, To Be Extraordinary, cuz if people like it I'm gonna try to get it published when it's finished. THat story really isn't getting much attention which really depresses me, so pretty pretty pretty please check it out!  
>~Hammsters~<p> 


	8. In the Meadow

**guess what? I'm back! And I'm really soory it took me so long to update, but now I have two awesome chapters written, and one already posted (this one) For those of you who were hoping for a little bit of cutesy-ness, you're really gonna like this. Enjoy!**

I sit alone in the dark of the jungle, shaking with fear. I can't bring myself to move knowing that he'll be there when I return. So I just sit, absolutely petrified, too cowardly to go back and face my problems. Even the thought of seeing Simon, Piggy, and the littluns doesn't motivate me to leave my spot. I stay firmly planted on the ground next to Willie's burned, blackened, destroyed remains. I don't know how long I sit there. One hour, two, all day. I just watch as the sun slowly inches its way across the darkening sky.

I shiver from the cold. It's nearly night now. I can hear the boys chattering in the distance and animals scurrying around the jungle. I can't focus on just one thing. Roger's threat seems to ring in my ears, _If you tell anyone, I'll make sure you and all your precious littluns suffer the same fate. _I'm not sure how many times images from earlier that day flash in my mind uninvited. No matter how hard I try to keep it off my mind, Willie's murder haunts me. The thought of that happening to anyone else terrifies me, as does the realization that I can't protect them without putting them in danger. That's an irritating twist of fate ain't it?

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I yelp and leap away, whimpering slightly in fear. "Relax Erin, it's okay. It's me, Simon." The person says. Simon holds his hand out to me and helps me to my feet. "Are you all right? We've been worried sick about you. Everyone else stopped looking for you hours ago. We thought in the fire…" His voice trails off, but I know what he was going to say. My eyes begin to water. "What's wrong?" I throw my arms around his neck and sob into his shoulder. He's a little shocked, but seems more concerned. He puts his arms around me and rubs circles on my back with his hand.

"It's okay. What happened?" He asks.

"When the fire started, Willie went a different way than you guys. I tried to catch up to him to make sure he was okay but I-I-I lost him and I c-c-c-couldn't get to him in time." I explain while crying. Simon looks even more shocked than before.

"You don't mean to say that he's…" He says in disbelief. I nod and point to what used to be Willie. He just stares silently for a while, but snaps out of it soon enough. "C'mon, we better get out of here." He wraps his arm around my shoulders and we begin to walk back to camp. When we get there, only a few boys are there. The others went hunting I suppose. Ralph, having seen us coming, meets us at the edge of the forest.

"Where have you been? What took you so long getting back?" He asks me. I just stare at my feet, unable to manage my normal nervous stutter.

"There was some… trouble during the fire." Simon then whispers, "She saw the littlun with the mulberry colored birthmark-"

"Willie. His name was Willie." I interject.

"Right, Willie. She saw him die. After that she was too shell-shocked to find her way back." He finishes explaining for me.

"Ralph looks grim. Without saying a word more to us, he vanishes into one of the shelters they've been working on.

"Thanks for that." I say to Simon once Ralph's gone. Simon shrugs.

"No problem." He replies. He looks worried. "Are you all right?" I nod.

"Yea, I'm fine." I tell him. Total lie. He doesn't look convinced. "Really, I am!"

"Okay, I'll take your word for it, but why don't you take the day off. Piggy can handle the littluyns alone for one day." He says. I sigh.

"But what am I supposed to do all day?" I say in a whiny voice. He flashes me a grin.

"You know what, I have something I wanted to show you. Why don't we go now?" I smile.

"Okay." He leads me back into the forest. I don't like being in teh jungle again, but I stay calm. Well, kinda. I must look a little scared, because Simon takes my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. We continue to walk, Simon constantly having to catch me when I trip over vines, roots and bushes. Not fun. Meanwhile, it starts getting darker and darker as the sun goes down and night approaches.

"Simon, are we almost there? It's getting cold out here." I don't mean to be whiny and impatient when he's trying to do something nice for me, but it reallly is getting cold. Simon just smiles.

"We're almost there, don't worry." I sigh and continue to follow him. He soon stops. "Okay, I'm gonna need you to close your eyes."

"What? No, no, no, no, no." I protest.

"Aw, c'mon. Can't you trust me?" He asks.

"Nope." I say, shaking my head. Simon sighs.

"Fine, but remember you brought this on yourself." He warns.

"Brought what-" He cuts me off by picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder like he did a few nights ago. "Really Simon?"

"Well you're the one who wouldn't close your eyes." He reminds me.

"Fine, I'll close my eyes!" I agree in exhasperation. Simon shakes his head.

"Sorry, too late." He tells me.

"Simon!" I shriek. Simon just laughs.

"We'll be there soon enough." I groan and blow rasberries at him, spitting all over the side of his face. Then I belch as loud as I can in his ear. Ain't I a dellicate flower? Simon still doesn't put me down. However, he does clamp his hand over my mouth. Guess I deserved that. After about five minutes, Simon comes to another stop. "Are you ready?" I nod. "Okay, close your eyes." I do as he says and he puts me down. After checking to make sure my eyes are shut, he turns me to face in front of us. "Okay, you can open your eyes now." I open them. What I see absolutely takes my breath away.

Before me is a small meadow, like I used to draw in my sketch pads back home, only ten times as magnificent. There's long, thin blades of grass that are swayed by a gentle breeze, chasing each other like it's a game of tag. The treetops above us open slightly, revealing a space in teh sky where the sun peeks out from the clouds just above the horizon, like a glimps of the gateway to heaven. Thin, dim beams of light streak though the air like the gentle stroke of an artist's paint brush, and brightly colored butterflies dance cheerfully among the rays. A thin freshwater stream drifts lazily along the edge of teh meadow, collecting in a clear blue pool. Scattered along the banks of the stream are actual delicate flowers, as opposed to yours truly, that seem to bend slightly towards the water as if to peer at their reflections. It reminds me of the kind of setting I'd use in one of my lame romance stories. The thought makes me blush slightly, but I'm not sure why.

"What do you think?" Simon asks, sounding hopeful. I turn and flash him a gigantic grin.

"It's amazing! Beautiful!" I tell him ecstatically. He smiles from ear to ear.

"I know, isn't it? I come here and it feels like I'm not even on the island anymore. That's why I love it here so much." He says.

"I can definitely tell what you mean. It's peaceful and quiet and safe, it's hard to imagine a place like this is on an island of bad hunters, imaginary beasts and stranded children." Simon chuckles, a serene expression on his face.

"When I'm here, I can almost imagine that all those things never existed. That I'm not one of those children and teh other choir boys aren't those bad hunters that haven't cuaght a thing in the few weeks we've been here." He says softly, his voice taking on a dream-like quality. I take a step further into the meadow, a little closer to him.

"It's easy to understand that." I reply. He turns and looks at me, his expression hard to read. _I wonder what he's thinking right now, _I think.

"You can come back whenever you want." He tells me, his voice even softer than before. I'm a little surprised at the offer.

"No. This is your place, I couldn't intrude like that." I say. He shakes his head.

"You wouldn't be intruding." He insists. "You're always helping out with the littluns and you deserve an escape every now and then. And you and Piggy are the only ones here on the island that really talk to me, and even Piggy agrees with everyone else that I'm batty, so I come here everyday and- What I'm trying to say is, it would be neci to have company every once and a while." He explains meekly, rambling a bit. He turns a little red at the end like he's embarressed. I smile.

"Okay, then I'll come here with you sometimes." I say. He grins. Suddenly, the air erupts in war cries, a sound known to be made by Jack and his hunters. No surprise there. But what comes as a shock to us is that the breeze now carries the delicious fragrance of... wait for it... wait for it...

"Food!" I exclaim. Simon's eyes widen in surprise and disbelief.

"Do you really think they actually got something this time?" He asks in disbelief. I shrug.

"A girl can hope." I start running ouit of the meadow, but Simon grabs my shoulder and stops me.

"Let's walk." He suggests. I nod adnd we start making our way through the jungle towards camp. Our progress is slow moving, and occasionally his hand brushes against mine. Simon sends me a shy smile, which I quickly return. By the time we get to camp the food's all been eaten already, but in all honesty, I really don't care.

**Awwwwwwwww, that's sweet. I love their relationship. Now the next chapter is much more dramatic, but if you want to read it, you gots to review!**


	9. Fears

**Joy to the world! I made a new chapter! A nice, long, dramatic chapter in which you make many shocking (and some less than shocking) discoveries about a bunch of the main characters. I'm a little disappointed that I only got one review last chapter, but hopefully all you lovely folks will enjoy this so thoroughly that you'll review a million bajillion times. Probably not, but hey, a girl can hope. Now on with the show!**

Out of caution and fear, I continue to watch Roger out of the corner of my eye. I feel much safer knowing he's not going to jump from the woods out of nowhere and decapitate Percival or cook Piggy over a bonfire or something. I notice a few things, some I like better than others. First of all, he has a strange loyalty to Jack. Gay maybe? Eh, maybe not, but I won't rule it out just yet. Second, Jack seems to be just as weary of Roger as I am, which could be helpful in the long run. The last is easily the worst. You see, the hunters have recently decided to go shirtless. And with his dark hair, dark eyes, and over all awesome muscles, Roger would be _really _hot if he wasn't so damn creepy. Stupid hawt creepy Roger.

The only time I don't have to spend on the look out for him is when the hunters are all out, you know, hunting. He's the best of teh hunters, so he never, _ever _ditches. Problem is, it's also the only time when Roger can pop out of the woods and scare me. So as I watch the littluns playing in the water, making sure they don't swim out too far, I keep my eyes and ears open for any sign that the hunters are returning. For a while, none comes. Which is good for more than one reason. Piggy and Simon are both on fire watch, so I'm watching the littluns alone. Not at all a secure feeling. I don't know what I'd do if Roger came by and was in a nastier mood than usual. What if he tried to hurt one of the little boys? On a good day the most I can lift is sixty pounds, I can't take on a big lug of insane muscular-tude! Great, now I've freaked myself out! Every little noise makes me jump ten feet in teh air. To calm myself down, I go to the water and try to scrub the mud off my beloved Converse, rubbing the worn, once emerald green cloth fondly.

A few minutes later, teh sound of whoops and hollers drowning out the shrieks and giggles of the littluns tells me _IT _and all of it's friends have returned for a lunch break. Oh goody. Our conquering heroes, our knights in shining armor. NOW I feel safe. A few minutes ago, I was so hungry that the thought of chewing sand was really tempting, but somehow, I just mysteriously lost my appetite. After walking the littluns back to camp, I hurry back to the beach. As I walk away, I can feel two pairs of eyes burning holes in the back of my head- Simon's concerned green ones, and Roger's perpetually angry yet amused brown ones- but I don't look back. Nope. I just keep walking until I reach the spot where the littluns had been playing moments before. I realize it'll be a while before the littluns come back and I try to find ways to occupy myself: skipping stones over the water, drawing in the sand, building sand castles, doing anything to keep myself busy while I'm waiting. The littluns return shortly after I've drawn three roses, two rainbows and a picture of Simon and Piggy, and built four 3D models of the island. Of course, the littluns stampede right through my masterpieces without thinking, but I don't mind. They're far too adorable to be mad at, and it's nice to have company again. I move back to sit in the shade of teh palm trees in a place where I can still keep an eye on the little boys. For the first time in days, I'm actually kind of relaxed. I yawn, stretch, and lean back against the fat trunk of a tree. It's actually peaceful for once, until a rough hand clamps over my mouth while another grabs my shoulder and drags me into the woods. When they release me, I jump practically five feet in the air and shriek like a frightened mouse. Dark eyes glare down at me.

"Shut the hell up Shitbrains." Roger demands harshly. I feel my blood run cold, my heart thudding in my chest, and a scream building in my lungs. but I manage to suppress it. I'm to scared to move, let alone run.

"R-R-Roger? Aren't you s-s-supposed to be h-hunting?" I ask, trembling. He just glares like that's the stupidest question he's ever heard.

"It's a lunch break dumbass, ever heard of it?" I mentally kick myself for annoying a kid who could kill me with his pinkie finger if he wanted to. "Come with me." He says. I gulp and try to figure out how to get away.

"B-b-but I'm supposed to be watching the l-l-littluns. W-w-what if they g-g-got hurt?" I excuse weakly. He raises an eyebrow.

"Do you honestly think I give a damn if one of the surplus brats drowns?" Roger asks boredly. I shake my head. "That's what I thought. Come on." Roger grabs my wrist and pulls me along behind him. We walk for about five minutes in absolute silence. I'm about to ask where we're going, when suddenly he slams me backwards into a tree, both of my wrists in his hands so I can't fight him.

"You told someone about the little boy didn't you?" He yells angrily in my face.

"W-w-w-what? No I-" Roger cuts me off.

"Don't lie to me. I know you did."

"But I didn't!" I insist. He scowls.

"All the hunters have been acting jumpy around me, even Jack! How do you explain that?" He demands. I wince.

"Well, it could be because you shoved a spear so far up a pig's ass that it came out the other end, and then laughed. But that's just a guess." He glares and his grip on my wrists tightens.

"Don't you get sarcastic!" I begin to cry a little bit. "And don't cry you little baby."

"I swear, I didn't tell anyone! You've got to believe me." I try to convince him. He still looks skeptical.

"I'll believe you this time. But if I find out you're lying to me-" He pantamimes slitting my throat. Then he moves so that his face is mere canitmeters away, and his breath is hot on my face. I prepare for another death threat, but instead I'm faced with a fate far worse than death. He presses his lips to mine. _Aw, hells no! _I shove Roger off and come this close to slapping him. Okay, so I did slap him. But he totally deserved it! He just smirks at me, looking amused.

"Don't touch me you creep!" I shriek, finally sprouting a backbone. He chuckles.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Roger asks, his voice low. He kisses me again. I try to shove him off again, but he's way too much stronger than me. His fingers dig into one of my patches of sunburned skin, causing me to yelp in pain. Problem is, his mouth is still on mine and... well, you get the picture. It's gross. Like, really, _really _gross. Somehow, in all the times I've thought about what my first kiss would be like, I never imagined it like this. I can't see why not. A creepy ass murderer rape-kissing me, what more could a girl possibly want. Note the sarcasm.

I try to think of ways to escape. Only one comes to mind. I swing out my knee, aiming for the nuts but hitting the gut. Still effective though, Roger stumbles backwards, clutching his stomach. I try to make a run for it. I've always been a good runner. If I wasn't, I never could've made it three years on both the cross country and track teams. But apparently, I've got nothing on a practiced hunter who's healthier, stronger, in better shape, and is better fed than me. He catches up to me in seconds, yanks me back by my shoulder and pins me to another tree.

"Don't run away from me you little bitch." I pull back my hand and slap him once, twice, three times, four times and going on a fifth when he grabs both my wrists in one of his strong hands. Then Roger pulls out a long silver knife and waves it in the air in front of my face. "Think I'm afraid to use this? Prove me wrong. Slap me again, I dare you." He challenges me. He releases one of my hands, waitimg for me to hit him. For obvious reasons, I don't. He chuckles darkly. "That's a good girl." His face inches towards mine, and I prepare to knee him in the crotch and make a break for it. But someone beats me to the punch line. Roger falls to his knees, doubled over and groaning, his hands gaurding the place where the sun don't shine. He moans in pain. Behind him, a little boy jumps up and down, pumping his fists in the air.

"Percival FOR THE WIN!" Percival exclaims, clearly proud of his excellent crotch kicking. I laugh, partially out of relief.

"Nice kicking Percy. WHy don't we head back to the beach now?" He nods vigorously, taking my hand and leading me back to where the others are playing. "Don't worry. The mean boy won't never, ever hurts ya." He assures me. I give him a curious look.

"How do you know that?" I ask. Out of nowhere, he hugs me, partially burying his face in my nearly nonexistent stomach.

"Cuz I'll always protect you." Okay, that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard. I kneel down and hug him back, kissing the top of his head. My little hero. After a few seconds, he runs off to play with his friends. As I walk back to my spot on the beach, one question gnaws at the back of my mind: is it weird that I couldn't help but think of Simon when Roger kissed me?

**Woah woah WOAH! Hold the phone! Roger likes Erin? Erin likes Simon! Simon is completely oblivious to everything? Aye, aye, aye! Is that even how you write that phrase? Whatever, I don't really care, I don't need to know that to pass Spanish. This is so incredibly dramatic! What ever shall our beloved and not-so beloved main characters do now that this information has been revealed? And is Percival the only one on the island smart enough to realize that Roger= bad news? You'd think more people would notice him yelling and threatening Erin in the woods. Or that they'd at least hear Erin's chihauhau-like scream. **

**Erin: I swear, I'm working with complete imbesols!  
>Simon: Hey? What about me.<br>Erin: Well, you're kinda cookoo for CoCo Puffs, but that can be overlooked.  
>Simon: Yay! Wait, what?<br>Erin: Don't worry your pretty, batty little head.  
>Simon: Somehow, I feel like she's insulting me...<strong>

**Hammsters: Yea yea yea, you guys can work on Simon's breakthrough later. People, I need you to review! I have complete faith in you, don't make me look as stupid as pretty, batty little Simon!**

**Simon: Now I feel like you're insulting me too...**

**Hammsters: Pay no mind to him. And since I feel like no one's reading my author's notes (and because it'll be kinda funny) I would like for everyone who reviews to say 'OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS CHEESY TACOS!" In their review. C'mon people. You know you wanna say it. SO review, respond to my poll, and check out two of my other stories, Routines and To Be Extraordinary. Peace!**


	10. I Don't Care

**Hey, I knows you guys are all probably a little irritated at me cuz I haven't updated any of my stories in a while, but I wrote you a nice long chapter to make up for it. It's almost 5,000 words! Don't get all freaked out cuz that seems long, cuz important shit goes on in this chapter you hears me? So, anyways, watch out, cuz what happens and what they talk about is way more important to the story than you may think.  
>The song- It started as 'You and Me' by Lifehouse, it was briefly 'Leave Out All the Rest' by Linkin Park, but now it's 'I Don't Care' by Fall Out Boy. Listen to it, it's rockin' awesome.<strong>

**Disclaimer: I...Hammsters...own nothing besides Erin. Not Lord of the Flies, not Piggy, not Ralph, not Roger, not Jack, and, saddest of all, not even Simon.**

**Gosh, people are right! That _is _incredibly painful to say!**

* * *

><p><strong>Say my name, and his in the same breath<br>I dare you to say they taste the same  
>Let the leaves fall off in the summer<br>And let December glow in flames (flames)**

Another exciting day in the life of Erin FitzGerald. Not. But on this island, that's not such a bad thing. With psycho killers, rampant, savage hunters, littlun after littlun after Piggy and Ralph after littlun puking on me, and a 'beast' popping in for visits every now and then, excitement is something I've come to fear. Speaking of psycho killers, rampant hunters, and things I've come to fear, Roger's imagination is absolutely extraordinary! Oh, how his threats have evolved over the past few weeks. He's gone from planning to cut us all up into a million tiny pieces while we sleep, to plan B, ripping apart me, Simon, and Piggy and using our scattered limbs for hopscotch and our intestines for jump-rope, to using our heads for soccer balls (while they're still attached and we're still alive, of course) until _pop! _they just come off, to ripping our hair out of our heads and making us eat it while he cuts off our hands and feet. If he could just focus that imagination into something creative, he'd make a great writer for "Criminal Minds." Ah, life was so much better when outrageous death threats, conspiracies, and murderous children were just the fictional, but still terrifying episodes of my favorite TV show. When the name Roger was only to be associated with my third favorite character in _The Lord of the Flies _(following, strangely enough, Jack and Simon. What a coincedence!) and a kid a grade lower than me who I swear on my life looks just like he would. When all the things going on in my life were just the plot of a poorly written fanfiction.

If I haven't stated it clearly enough, Roger continues directing a steady stream of death threats my way. During his free time, in a secluded place, of course. And if that weren't bad enough, THAT NUTCASE WON'T STOP KISSING ME! God, what is his problem? I'm really getting mixed messages from that kid. And I really don't like any of the messages I'm getting. _Well, it could be a whole lot worse. _True. I mean, at least this "fanfiction" ain't rated M, get what I'm saying. So I'm going to count my lucky stars and hope my life stays strictly T, with a little K+ tossed in here and there for the sake of the littluns' innocent ears.

**Brace myself and let go  
>Start it over again in Mexico<br>These friends, they don't love you  
>They just love the hotel suites, now<strong>

Things haven't been that bad though. I get to hang out a ton with Simon and Piggy. _Simon, _I think dreamily. _If I could switch out him and Roger for the part AFTER he threatens me, oh I'd do it in a second!_ Simon isn't like the other boys on the island. He doesn't treat me like a daft, spineless little girl like Jack and Ralph, or a big sister or a substitute mommy like the littluns, or a worthless piece of meat like Roger. I'm not just some spazzy kid to have nerd showdowns with. He protects me. As cheesy as it sounds (and I'm losing just about every ounce of self-respect I have by saying this), when I fall, he's always there to catch me. Literally. I think I might get even clumsier when he's around (if that's possible.) Hell, he even helped me resurrect my Converse! If only he liked me the way I like him. Sure, I'm a good friend, maybe like a little sister or a cousin, but nothing else. And if he's the kind of guy that macks with his cousins, I've officially lost all interest. It's not his fault though. Honestly, I don't mind too horribly that he doesn't like-like me. I mean, he keeps me sane on an island of macadamia nutjobs, and that's really a lot for someone to do, considering I've been at least half bonkers my whole life.

**I don't care what you think  
>As long as its about me<br>The best of us can find happiness  
>In misery.<strong>

I walk along the edge of the jungle, too wrapped up in my own thoughts to pay much attention to where I'm going. The littluns are all eating dinner, something I've been very successful in avoiding ever since the hunters caught their first pig. If I wasn't starving, I'd be very excited about the lack of adults here to make me eat meat. Truthfully, I'm almost starting to miss that. I've become so oblivious to my surroundings that I don't notice the dark figure in the trees until he grabs my shoulder and pulls me out of sight. I open my mouth to scream, but a rough hand clamps over my mouth.

"Roger?" I try to ask, but his hand muffles it to sound more like 'Wofer?' My attacker chuckles darkly. Oh yea. Definitely Roger.

"Nice guess." I start to squirm and try to shove him away from me, but his hold on me tightens and he just laughs more. "What? Aren't you excited to see me?" I squirm more and do the only thing I can think of at the moment. I lick his hand. He groans in disgust and wipes his hand on his shorts.

"I can't be excited to _see _you, you'r behind me dillhole." I say bitterly.

"Play nice," He says warningly, spinning me around to face him. I take one good look at him, make a face, and say, "Now I wish I couldn't see you."

"Don't be such a bitch, you worthless piece of shit." You see what I have to live with? Roger grabs my shoulders and presses his lips to mine. Grossness. _He's gonna give me COOTIES! _I've really had enough of this. If you stand up to a bully, they always back down right? I silently pray that this rule applies to sadists as well and the first chance I get, I chomp down hard on his tongue with my front teeth. A disgusting metallic taste fills my mouth. Roger jumps back.

"You crazy bitch! You bit my tongue!" He raises a hand to his mouth. "What the f- I'm bleeding!" Huh. So that explains the metallic taste. I just shrug and wipe his blood from my mouth. He lets out a terrifying, low, wolf-like growl. Then he lifts his hand and smacks me across the face. I stumble back and hit the trunk of a tree. Roger hits me again in the exact same spot. He raises his hand again and I wince at the sight, but it never makes contact. The sound of a bass clarinet- french horn- trombone mutant instrument fills the air and Roger curses under his breath.

**I don't care what you think  
>As long as it's about me<br>The best of us can find happiness  
>In misery.<strong>

"Don't let anyone see that." He orders. Then he disappears into a thicker section of the jungle. The spot where he hit me throbs and I know he's right. Scratches are one thing- they could come from the trees or bushes- but bruises won't be brushed off as easily by the other kids. They'll know something's up. After quickly brushing the dirt off myself, I head abck towards camp to see what the meeting's about.

**(AN: I thought about ending the chapter here, but I'm too nice to do that to all you wonderful peoples. I know what you've all been wanting from this story ;))**

When I get there about five minutes later, the hunters have all left and the littluns have returned to playing. From the looks of it, I'm a little too late. I sit down next to Simon, turning my head slightly to do as Roger told me. He smiles and I give him a half-smile back.

"Did I miss the meeting?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"Nah. Ralph told the hunters they could go." I nod in understanding and look up at Ralph.

"Okay guys, so Samneric wanted to go hunting, so I'm gonna need Piggy to watch the littluns, and Erin? Can you watch the fire?" He asks. I want to snap and say that yes, I'm perfectly capable of that, but I know he's just trying to be nice, so I nod. "Well. That's it then, so, you can go." Ralph hops off the platform and heads over to work on the shelters they've been building. I stand up.

**Oh, take a chance, let your body get a tolerance  
>I'm not a chance, but a heat wave in your pants<br>Pull a breath like another cigarette  
>pawn shop, I'm trading up (trading up)<strong>

"Well, see ya later guys." I say, then heading off on my own into the jungle.

May I just say that I'm an idiot?

I can't be in the jungle by myself! I'll trip over something, tumble off a cliff, and die! I'll trip over something, fall into the fire, and die! I'll trip over something, roll down a hill through some bushes, attracting the attention of a certain person, get attacked by Roger, get kissed by Roger, and die! I'll trip over something, roll down previously mentioned bush covered hill, get attacked by a boar, and die! Or worse, I'll get kissed by Roger, who will, as a result, recieve a well earned kick to the crotch. Then, when faced with the crushing depression of my rejection and the literally searing pain of my rejection, Roger will call over his friend the boar (the two have been in cahoots from the start, you see), and I'll get attacked. AND DIE! Fires and Rogers and boars, oh my! As I predicted, I stumble around, tripping over things that seem to Apparate into my path (you get it Harry Potter fans) for the next few minutes. What is my downfall you may ask? Mud. Drat! Yes, that is the word I am using. Drat, drat, drat! Curse you...mud! That word really doesn't suit that sentence. Oh well. After getting up out of the mud, I begin walking, grumbling inwardly about the death of my shorts (hmm... this sounds familiar...). A noise in the woods makes me stop short. Again with the familiarity. Could it be a wild animal? _The boar... _A savage? _Nah, Jack's hunting. _A fucking cannibal? _Roger...?_ I look around but see nothing, which only supports my Roger and his friend the boar theory. Cautiously, I whisper, "Roger?" but get no response. I am left with no choice but to scoff at my foolish paranoia and continue on my way.

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder and my reaction is immediate. I shriek, shield my face, and try to run. Whoever it is (probably the Roger-boar alliance) just grabs my shoulder and spins me to face them. I squeak and start trying to smack them.

"Whoa, whoa, easy there Erin." A voice says soothingly. _That's definitely not Roger. _"It's me, Simon." I sigh in relief, then feel heat flood my face.

"Whoops, sorry Simon!" He just chuckles, not a scary intimidating one like Roger's, but the kind that makes you feel like you're somewhere safe. I relax even more.

"Nice reflexes." Simon comments. I laugh.

"Yea, well it helps on an island. You know, gotta watch out for hunters, and bird poop, and falling coconuts. Boars. Especially boars." I say, nodding to emphasize that last point. Simon laughs, thinking that I'm joking. The Roger-boar is no laughing matter, I want to say.

**I'm the oracle in my chest  
>Let the guitar scream like a fascist<br>Sweat it out, shut your mouth  
>Free love on the streets, but<br>In the alley and I ain't that cheap, now**

"Damn them wild boars!" I laugh. "Are there even any boars on this island? Shouldn't we have seen any by now?" I shake my head.

"Nope. They're here, they're just to crafty and smart to be found. I'm positive that one of them has made a secret alliance with one of the hunters." I confide my conspiracy theory to him. He raises an eyebrow curiously.

"Oh really. And which hunter would that be?" I shrug.

"That has yet to be discovered." Lie. "But an alliance has been made I tells ya, AN ALLIANCE HAS BEEN MADE!" He laughs.

"You're one interesting girl Erin." I grin widely.

"Muchos gracias senor!" We step into an area where moonlight streams through the leafy canopy of the trees and Simon's cheerful face takes on a worried expression. He reaches up and the tips of his fingers brush the bruise Roger gave me a little more than an hour ago. Even his light touch makes it shoot with pain.

"What happened?" He asks softly, concern seeping from his voice. I turn my head away from his touch so he can't see it anymore.

"Nothing." I murmur. Simon steps closer.

"Erin, did someone hurt you? Did one of the hunters-" I cut him off.

"It's nothing Simon. I just fell. You know what a klutz I am." I assure him, plastering a fake smile on my face. He still looks worried and doubtful.

"Are you sure? With all these guys here- I mean, there's so many boys and just one girl- we should've-" He takes a breath and tries to gather his thoughts. "I just want to make sure you're safe." The sentence fills me with happiness and a false sense of security yet breaks my heart at the same time. I can never tell him, not if I want to keep him safe.

"It's fine Simon. I promise."

"All right." I start walking again, but he grabs my hand and stops me one last time. "You'd tell me if someone _was _hurting you, wouldn't you?" I nod.

"Of course." I lie. He looks relieved and we start walking again. He still hasn't released my hand from when he stopped me. While we're walking, he asks me about my family, my friends, my favorite hobbies my favorite books, covering most areas of my life before the island. Berfore the island. It's been so long, it takes a while for me to remember some of the things he asks about. I tell him about my older sister and how much she hates the fact that I'm taller than her when she's six years older. I tell him about my much older 22 year old brother, my cousins, my friends. What school do I go to? I'm not sure I remember. Have I turned 14 yet? How long have we even been stuck here?

**I don't care what you think  
>As long as it's about me<br>The best of us can find happiness  
>In misery<strong>

"Okay. So you haven't been able to remember the answers to my last few questions. Let's try this one. What's your favorite movie?" He asks.

"Can I say something that's on YouTube?" Simon nods. "Then 'A Very Potter Musical,' hands down."

"Oh, I've heard of that! I heard it's really funny." He says. I nod.

"It's hilarious! Same goes for 'A Very Potter Sequel.'" I start trying to explain the story to him, and make him promise to watch it when we get off the island. "So I've told you all about me. Tell me something about you now." He shrugs.

"Nothing much to tell really." I give him a look.

"C'mon. Tell me about your family! Do you have any brothers or sisters?" He grimaces.

"Just my dick half-brother. I've never hated a human being as much as I hate him. And I'm not one for hating people." He says, almost in a growl.

"Wow. What's he like?" I ask curiously.

"Like I described him. He's my older half-brother and he's a total dick. He's less than a year older but he always uses it to give himself authority. 'Mom, tell Simon I get to pick the movie. I'm the oldest after all.' 'Why should you get to pick where we go for dinner, I'm older!' 'Buzz off Simon, me and my friends get to hang out in the basement. We don't want babies like you and your lame-o friends hanging around us.' Every single day! He's not even a full year older!" He exclaims in exhasperation. I wish I could say that I know how he feels, but honestly, I don't. I've always gotten along with my siblings, gotten treated nicely because I'm just a little kid compared to them, their friends don't mind when I hang around them because I'm so much younger that even at thirteen they still think I'm adorable.

"Just out of curiosity, how's he less than a year older if he's your half-brother?"

"His dad and my mom got divorced while she was pregnant with him. THen she remarried my dad a month or so after he was born, ten months later, bada bing bada boom, God's gift to women." He gestures to himself, smirking slightly. I laugh. Then he looks sad. "He's hated me since day one." Once again, I can't relate. I just say, "Well at least you don't have to deal with that here." Simon snorts.

"You'd be surprised."

"What do you mean?"

"Here, Jack's always ripping on how terrible I am at hunting and how I'm so incredibly useless to the group and I spend too much time goofing off with you and Piggy." He says bitterly.

"Jack?" I repeat.

"Huh?"

"You said Jack." I say. He looks stricken for a second, but it vanishes quickly.

"Right. Jack's one of my half-brother's friends. Acts just like him." I give him an interested look to signal for him to ellaborate. We've reached the top of the mountain. The two of us sit down in front of the fire and he continues. "Jack's just as big of a dickhead. Tripping me, thumping me on the back of the head whenever I screw up, smacking me in the back with teh butt of his spear, occasionally with the tip if his last hunt didn't go well. Shoves me into the pond whenever he gets the chance, makes sure I always get the smallest piece of meat at meals, if I'm even lucky enough to get any." My mouth hangs agape as he tells me all about Jack's abuse.

"Simon, you can't let him treat you like that. Your brother's one thing, he's half a world away, but you've seen how much the hunters have changed over the last few months. They don't hesitate to kill animals, to beat the crap out of little kids when they annoy them. It's like they've become completely savage! Simon, this is only going to get worse and worse!" I say worriedly.

**I don't care what you think  
>As long as it's about me<br>The best of us can find happiness  
>In misery<strong>

"What're they gonna do, hunt me down and kill me like one of their pigs?" He jokes.

"I'm serious, you've got to stand up for yourself." I say assertively.

"Well, what do you suggest I do?" He asks.

"Fight him! Show him who's boss!" SImon rolls his eyes, being very un-Simonlike.

"Jack's not exactly big on verbal arguments." I smack his forehead lightly.

"I mean you should rough him up!" I say.

"He'd beat the shit out of me every time."

"Uh-huh. Sure." I reach over and roll up his sleeves, revealing muscles that definitely did not exist when we first got on the island. I feel a sudden need to stare at him, but I don't. "I think you're just too afraid to fight him." Simon raises an eyebrow.

"You calling me a wimp?" I shake my head and elbow him playfully.

"Nope. I'm calling you a weeny." He tries to look insulted, but his eyes betray him, twinkling mischeviously.

"A weeny huh?" I nod, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, I'm gonna get you for that." Simon dives at me and I jump out of the way. He faceplants, getting a mouthful of dirt and maybe some ash from the fire. I take off running. Simon jumps to his feet, spits out the dirt, then chases after me.

Thinking quickly, I jump to the side and trip him. Simon tumbles to the ground. He grabs my ankle, pulls me down, then rolls over to pin me to the ground

"Gotcha." He says, smirking.

"I don't think so." I push him over and pin him beneath me. We continue going on this way, tackling eachother, wrestling, and rolling in circles around the fire. Simon ends it by pinning me and holding my wrists to the ground with his hands so I can't push him off. I struggle to get him off even though I know it's useless.

"I win." We both laugh breathlessly, tired out from our wrestling. He releases my wrists, but doesn't get off me. Suddenly, he gets quiet and a shy look crosses his face.

"Erin?"

"Hmm?"

"If you don't mind, I would really like to kiss you right now." His eyes look hopeful and I feel a strong urge to scream 'YES!' But I decide to have a little fun first.

"Nah, I think I'll pass." I say. A total lie, but he seems to believe it. Simon's face turns a shade of red to compete with Jack's hair, and he begins stammering something that sounds like, 'oh, yea, that's cool I guess. Forget I said it' and I want to giggle at his adorkableness.

"Hey Simon?" I say softly. He looks down at me. "Gotcha." I sit up, grab his shoulders, and kiss him. After a second or two, we both pull back. SImon smiles timidly. Let me spell it out for you. A. D. O. R. K. A. B. L. E.

"You're cruel, you know that?" I smile my most sweet-as-apple-pie-all-american-girl-next-door style smile.

"Yes, but you kinda like it don't you?" He shrugs, grinning.

"Little bit." We kiss again. A real one this time, and guess what? I don't even have to bite anyone's tongue! Bonus! A few seconds in, I hear a familiar voice in the woods.

"Ew, they're kissing!" The person says, then adding thoughtfully, "Frenchin' it too." We both pull back and look over at our friend.

"Ah, go shit yourself Piggy." Simon says. I smack him in the arm.

"Why don't you shit yourself Simon? C'mon over Piggy!" Piggy comes and sits down next to me.

"That was nasty man. I have three friends on this god-forsaken hell-hole and seeing two of them making out will just make things awkward." Simon and I just shrug.

"Could be worse." Simon points out.

"Yea, Simon could've been Frenching with Ralph." I add, trying to be helpful but failing miserably. They give me a grossed out look.

**Said-a I don't care just a-what you think  
>As long as it's about me, you said-a<br>I don't care just a-what you think  
>As long as it's about me, you said-a<br>I don't care (I don't care)  
>You said I don't care (I don't care)<br>Said I don't care,  
>I don't care<br>I don't care (I don't care) you said-a  
>I don't care<strong>

"Okay, whole new nasty image just seared into my poor innocent mind." Piggy says.

"I would love to know what goes on in that painfully screwed up little head of yours." Simon says thoughtfully. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"You mean _wonderfully _screwed up little head of mine." I tell him. He smiles and kisses me lightly on the lips.

"Of course." Piggy fakes a gag and shakes his head at us.

"You two disgust me." I feign shock.

"Even _me?_" He looks incredulous.

"Especially you." It' time for _THE LOOK. _I make my eyes all big, pout my lower lip slightly, and bat my big baby blues at him. He is visibly weakened. "Okay, not you. Just Simon."

**I don't care what you think  
>As long as it's about me<br>The best of us can find happiness  
>In misery<strong>

**I don't care what you think  
>As long as it's about me<br>The best of us can find happiness  
>In misery.<strong>

"What?" Simon exclaims.

"She did the Bambi eyes! I am weak to the power of her Bambi eyes!" Piggy says apologetically. "Show him." I do the look again, batting my eyes a little excessively, my pout its poutiest, my baby blues their baby blue-est. Simon trembles, trying to fight the power, but soon crumbles. He smacks his hands over his eyes.

"Aaaaah! I can't withstand the power! Too. Cute. TOO CUTE!"

"Ha! I knew it! No one is immune to my Bambi eyes!" Simon throws his hand over his heart, reaches the other out towards the sky, and cries, "Goodbye cruel world!" Then he flops down limply, eyes closed and his tongue hanging out.

"Drama queen." I mutter. He bolts up.

"That's MISTER drama queen to you." Piggy and I laugh. SImon wraps his arm around me and we all begin talking. I entertain them with stories of my classmates throwing staples at eachother and accidentally stapling their thumbs instead of their papers (as you can see, my now eighth grade class is made up completely of the best and the brightest nearby towns have to offer.) and a boy nickname Horny since the second grade (I kid you not.) And for a split second, I see a dark boy glaring resentfully at Simon out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn to look at him he vanishes into the surrounding darkness.

**Simon: Horny? Really? Have you no class Hammsters?  
>Hammsters: Two things:<br>1.) I think it was established long ago that I've never had any class and,  
>2.) The sad thing is, I didn't even have to make that up.<br>Erin: Wow. You know some screwed up people. THEY MIGHT EVEN BE ABLE TO COMPETE WITH MY INSANITY!  
>Hammsters: Maybe Erin. Maybe...<br>Lizzie M.- Hey Hammsters, when you gonna update my story?  
>Neverland Jack- Yea! The readers need to know what Roger's got planned for Lizzie!<br>Neverland Roger- yea! and more importantly _I _need to know what I have planned for Lizzie!  
>Hammsters: Sorry guys. I've got the whole thing planned out. There's just that issue of picking up a pencil and writing with it. I'm so weak!<br>Leah Carson/Merridew: We all know that's not true.  
>Erin: Ahhhhhhhhhhh! It's a foreign story invasion!<br>Simon: Begone foul beasts! (All other characters exit, mumbling about how he be disrespectin' dem.)  
>Hammsters: Whatever. Ignore that last bit, I didn't feel like adding another author's note (I really hate those things) And since most of my Neverland readers read this too, I figured I'd just tell them that little tidbit in here. I'M NOT GIVING UP NEVERLAND! No worries folks. Now, I needs me reviews if you want to save Simon from the wrath of Roger.<br>Simon: Do it people! Please!**


	11. Gotta Be Somebody

**Hello people of earth! I have come to bring you yet another dramatic chapter! This will show a slightly different view of Roger, so I'd sit down if I were you. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, and since I have nothing else to say, enjoy the chapter!**

I wander along the edge of the jungle once again. I know I shouldn't be out here alone. As of recently, Roger's been wandering off on his own a lot more often. But I couldn't resist. The solitude is oddly comforting. I miss being able to just be by myself whenever I needed privacy, something extremely rare ever since we got stuck here. I like being able to just think with no interruptions from little kids or bastard hunters.

There's no doubt in my mind that the shadowed boy I saw in the woods the other day was Roger. Ever since that day, he hasn't been sending threatening glares to me, but to Simon. And I'm not sure which is more terrifying. He snaps at people a lot and storms off on his own and jostles and ridicules Simon every chance he gets. That's who he's mad at most of the time. I don't understand why he's so upset! But it's really beginning to freak me out. The best part of being alone is...well...the fact that he's not here, and Jack isn't, and Ralph isn't. It's just me. I walk along think about this and other such shit, and wishing I was anywhere but this god-forsaken island. It's then that I hear it.

The most beautiful sound I've ever heard carries from deep in the woods to me. I try to imagine who could sound like that. Plenty of the boys were in the choir once upon a time, but I can't imagine them as anything but savage hunters anymore.

"This time, I wonder what it feels like, to find the one in this life. The one we all dream of, but dreams just aren't enough so I'll be waiting for the real thing." Hypnotized by the deep, rich, honey sweet voice, I follow the sound blindly to its source. I recognize the song, 'Gotta Be Somebody' by Nickelback. "I'll know it by the feeling, the moment when we're meeting will play out like a scene, straight off the silver screen. So I'll be holding my breath right up til the end until that moment when I find the one that I'll spend forever with." I'm just a few feet from teh singer. I peek past the tree blocking my view of him and nearly gasp. Of course, like a siren's music, the angelic voice led me straight to the angel Lucifer himself. Satan.

The singer is Roger.

"Cuz nobody wants to be the last one there. Everyone wants to feel like someone cares. Someone to love with my life in their hands, there's gotta be somebody for me like that." I can't believe this awesome voice belongs to him! I've been in the choir, and no one at my church was this good! This is the kind of voice that could sing ballads, rock, pop, anything! It almost makes me want to sing along. "Nobody wants to go in on their own. Everyone wants to know they're not alone. Somebody else who feels the same somewhere, there's gotta be somebody for me out there." I suddenly get a tickly feeling in my nose and my eyes begin to water. Oh no. I wiggle my nose in hopes of making it go away, but it doesn't. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh-

"ACHOO!" Roger stops singing and looks around.

"Who's there?" I duck behind the trunk of the tree for cover. "Come out come out wherever you are." He calls, an eerie tone to his voice. I work up the courage to look over at where he was, but he's gone. I whip my head back around to look forward and find myself nose to nose with him. I gasp and my heart thuds to a brief stop.

"Stopped for a listen did you Erin?" He sounds angry, like he's struggling to keep his voice calm.

"N-n-n-no. I mean yes! Sorta. I guess. I mean- I don't really know what I mean. Sorry!" Roger looks more than slightly annoyed at my ramblings "You have a really nice voice." I add softly. THis brings him to smirk.

"I have, have I?" I nod vigorously.

"Really good. And that's one of my favorite songs." For the first time, like, EVER, Roger smiles.

"One of mine too." He takes a step back from me. "Wanna walk with me?" I look at him strangely.

"What?"

"You know. Lift your legs and move them for the purpose of moving yourself forward? While I simultaneously do teh same thing next to you?" I roll my eyes.

"I mean, why aren't you beating the shit out of me and then rape-kissing me? That's how this usually goes." Roger shrugs.

"As much fun as that is, seeing as you've got yourself a boyfriend it obviously isn't doing much for me. So I thought I'd try something else." He explains. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Really?"

"Really. Unless, you want to do things the other way. That'd be totally fine with me." No sooner have the words escaped his mouth than I say, "Let's walk!" He chuckles and we begin walking. It soon becomes clear that of all the things Roger is, a great conversationalist is not one of them. After a minute or two of comfortably awkward silence, I fill the unbearable gap with, "That was weird." He smiles slyly, like he's privy on some secret I'm not in on.

"What? Me singing, or me deciding not to go all death row escapee on you?" I contemplate this for a moment before replying.

"Both."

"Really? I understand the latter, but I WAS in the choir, if you didn't gather that from the cloak and the black silk straight jacket." He points out.

"Well yea, but you've never seemed like the choir type to me." I say.

"Am I more the juvie type?" He guesses. Feeling particularly confident that he won't hit me, (I believe that once I get off this pathetic blotch of sand, a trip to the psych ward is in order just due to that last sentence) I say, "You were closer with death row escapee." He shoots me a warning look, daring me to push my luck further. I seriously need to remember that this is a sadist I'm dealing with.

"Sorry." Upon careful examination, I find that he is smiling ever so slightly. I take that as my okay to continue talking. "I'm surprised your voice still sounds that good. I've done choir for 7 years, but I bet after all this time with minimal water and the heat and no practicing, my coive must sound like crap by now." Now he actually grins.

"Well I wish I could say that it's a tribute to my incredible God given talent, but truthfully I still practice every day." He admits. I raise my eyebrows.

"Really? Why?"

"I'm hoping to steal a solo from Jack or Simon if we ever get out of here. They're the apples of our director's eyes. They can do no wrong. They make a mistake, they're frigging Mozart and Beethoven, stooping from the high heavens to better our humble song selections. I'm determined to get at least one good part." Roger explains. FOr a moment, I almost believe that he's a normal person, preaching the same speech I've been spewing about the kids in my choir since the dawn of time. THen I see those nearly black eyes and remember the truth. "All though, I must admit, those two can do a mean Buddy Holly."

"That doesn't really sound like the kind of things choirs sing."

"We're not a normal choir. A typical show usually contains two songs by Justing Bieber, one or two piss-poor selections from the Fray, or three kinds of torture in the form of a Glen Hansard songs. OUr director says that the songs we want to sing will make us violent and melt our brains, but if I have to sing 'Baby' one more time, I swear, I'll stick my head in a microwave and melt my brain myself."

"Lovely," I reply sarcastically.

"I'm hoping she'll give in after a few months with all her singers killing pigs on an island in the middle of nowhere." He smiles a bit. "Besides, a little 'El Scorcho' never hurt anybody." Then he reaches out towards my face and I flinch and duck my head. Roger gently lifts my face up with one hand and tucks my overgrown sidebangs out of my face with the other. Oh.

"I really wish that wasn't your immediate reaction." He sighs. I huff.

"Well you only have yourself to blame."

"I suppose that's true. It's not like I like hurting you though! Well, actually I do, but it's everyone, not just you. Which isn't much better, I guess. I do wish it wasn't like that though, if it counts for anything." He tries (and fails) to redeem himself. "Does it?" I don't answer. Off in the distance, I hear Jack calling, "Roger!'' He sighs.

"I gotta go. Just one thing before I leave. Was I good?" He briefly reminds me of a little boy asking his mommy how he behaved in church.

"I think you played the part of a human being very well. Almost bought it for a second or two." He grimaces, then smiles slightly.

"Is there any chance you'll change your mind about me...or Simon?" He looks hopeful, and I almost feel sorry for what I'm about to say.

"Roger, you can be nice when you want, and maybe one day I'll forgive you for hurting me. But not for what you did to Willie. Play nice all you want, but I will never, EVER care about you." His eyes become cold and distant.

"Then playtime's over." Roger grabs my shoulders and pushes me into a tree, his ingers pressing hard into my shoulder blades and surely leaving bruises. "It sure is a shame Erin. I mean, I like doing things this way better, but I was willing to be nice, to treat you like your precious Simon does. I'd have done it for years without ever forgetting it if you'd let me! Why isn't that good enough for you?" He yells in my face.

"Becuase I know that's not really you. You can pretend to be Simon all you want but inside you'll always be the boy who could watch a little kid bleed and burn to death and laugh. No amount of pretending would ever change that." I say, practically spitting each word in his face.

"What does he have that I don't have?" He tries to sound mad, but his voice betrays him. I just glare into his dark eyes.

"A heart." Then he bangs my head against the tree a hard as he can. I can feel warm blood oozing down the back of my head and Roger press his lips gently to my forehead as I quickly sink into unconsciousness.

**How was that? Not too bad eh? Hope you don't mind Roger trying to be a human, I just had to have it somewhere. I just want to make sure that you know Roger actually does care about Erin, but being a sadist he really doesn't know how to show it. He won't really be nice to Erin, but he's certainly going to keep trying to impress her. The next chapter won't have any Roger in it (yay, I feel so evil writing his scenes) and, a gift to all you fans of the main-main characters, Ralph will be making his first of many grand appearances. Believe it or not, he willl eventually be very extremely important. So he shall be making his entrance. Review if you want him to come in soon! Oh, and please check out the poll on my profile!**


	12. Think I just got my 1st & 2nd concussion

**Yola brola! Hehe, just made my own words. I'm back, and I come bearing a chapter! I actually finished writing this like a week ago but I was too lazy to type it up and post it on here. Heheh, sorry bout that. It's a good chapter though, with no invasions from Roger. THere is a little Jackiness at the end, btu he only says one thing. All you Jack lovers, don't worry, he'll be important later. The song in it is 'The Middle' by Green Day, cuz I love it and it reminds me of Erin's character and all the problems she's had. Enjoy the show!  
><strong>**  
>Simon: And Hammsters doesn't own anything!<br>****Hammsters: *Sniff sniff* Not cool man...**

I hear a muffled voice in my ear. "Erin?" The voice says. "Oh god! Erin, Erin wake up!" The voice says frantically. I reach up and smack whoever it is in the face. They sigh in relief. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for the snooze button. Can't seem to find one." I mumble. I crack an eye open and see Simon crouching next to me. He chuckles.

"You had me worried there for a second." I sit up, groaning from the stiffness my uncomfortable position gave me.

"Simon, SImon, Simon, haven't you learned by now that I'm indestructable?" He grins.

"No, I suppose I haven't. C'mon, we need to get back, Ralph wants us to take over fire watch again." Simon helps me to my feet. Suddenly, thw orld around me seems to start spinning. I grab his shoulder for balance as I start tipping this way and that.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing, I'm just a little dizzy." I reach up and rub the back of my head. It's wet and sticky. I look at my hand and see that it's red. "Oh my god." I groan. I start seeing spots, then my vision blurs, and then it goes black all together. I pass out.

* * *

><p>"So what happened again?" A voice asks.<p>

"I told you! I found her asleep by a tree, she woke up, then she passed out while we were walking!" Another answers.

"And her head was bleeding?" The first voice asks.

"yep." My eyes flutter open and I see Ralph and Simon crouched over me, a little too close for comfort.

"Holy shit!" I exclaim. I bolt up and hit my head on a low hanging branch in the shelter. I groan again as I pass out. Again.

* * *

><p>I wake up again. This time, Ralph and Simon are still there, but they've been kind enough to give me a little extra personal space. I rub my head and find a stip of cloth wrapped around my head, sort of like a bandage. I take a quick look around me and two things immediately catch my attention: 1. My head is resting in Simon's lap- which I'm totally fine with- and, 2. The bandage on my head came from Ralph's shirt- which makes me turn a little red, seeing as that dude is really hot! What kind of a 14 year old already has a friggin' six pack? I turn even redder, because I realize I'm staring a little bit.<p>

"Oh good, you're awake," Ralph says, apparently not noticeing that I'd been staring. I sit up more slowly than last time, groaning from the pain in the back of my head.

"Ugh, my head is killing me!" I exclaim, rubbing the wound gently.

"You hit it pretty bad." Ralph tells me, as if I didn't already know. "What happened?" I look down.

"Nothing, I just fell and hit it." I answer automatically.

"Again?" Simon asks in disbelief. I nod.

"Again, what do you mean again?" Ralph asks. I sigh and pull my bangs out of my face, where they've been quite effective in covering up the purple, black, blue, and green (yes, green. There was also pus coming out at one point) bruise Roger gave me. Ralph looks mildly repulsed.

"Gross. A fall gave you that too?" He doesn't seem to believe my alibi either. I roll my eyes.

"Yes, okay? I fall a lot, we get it! Simon, you've seen that first hand." I snap. He shrugs.

"I'm gonna go get something to eat. Simon, you should get something too." Ralph says.

"Actually, I'm not-" Ralph gives him a look. "Oh, uh, yea. I'm starved. Yup. That's- that's not even a lie or anything." Ralph elbows him. "And I'll be shutting up now."

"Good plan." Ralph says to him, then turning to me. "You want anything?" He asks. I shake my head.

"No thanks." They both walk out. I'm not sure if it's the huge gash at the back of my head, or Simon's Oscar-worthy performance (sarcasm), but something gives me the feeling they weren't actually leaving to get food. I crawl up to the doorway and try to listen to what they're saying.

"You don't believe what she said about falling, do you?" Ralph asks Simon.

"Not really, you?"

"Nope." He replies. "Do you think one of the other guys did it?"

"Probably." Simon answers. "But if it is, for some reason she isn't saying anything."

"Any ideas who it could be?" Ralph asks.

"Not one. How about you?"

"My best guess would be one of the hunters. They're gone all day and so is she, so nobody would notice they were missing." Ralph reasons.

"I wish she would just tell us the truth." Simon sighs.

"We'll figure it out sooner or later." Ralph assures him.

"Hey, do you think you could maybe keep her from leaving the camp? Please?" Simon asks hopefully.

"What? How am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know, you're the chief! Give her a job or put her on, like, shelter arrest or something!"

"No! She's your girlfriend, talk to her!" Ralph suggests. Simon snorts.

"Like she's gonna listen."

"The girl never talks. How hard can it be to get her to listen?" Ralph asks.

"She might not talk to all you guys, but she sure has a lot to say around me and Piggy. And if there's one thing I've learned about her, she's way to hard-headed. You can't just tell Erin what to do and expect her to do it. She'll do the opposite jsut to frustrate you." I decide to make my entrance.

"Got that right." I say. "I've mastered the art of being a little sister." I've decided that if the two of them are going to talk behind my back anyway, I might as well stop being shy around Ralph. "Now, who was planning to tell me what to do? And what do I have to do the opposite of?"

"Nothing. C'mon." Simon grabs my hand and we begin to walk away.

"Bye Ralph!" I call back. Then I elbow Simon. "That was rude."

"Sorry, you just need to rest." He says, not sounding very sorry at all.

"Then why are we going to the beach?" I ask.

"Because it'll help you relax." he explains.

"I don't wanna relax. I want, um, uh. I want, uh, I want PIZZA!" I exclaim for no real reason.

"Pizza?" He repeats.

"Yes pizza." I confirm. He gives me a bizarre look. We're on an island, there is no pizza."

"So I've noticed. Someone really oughtta do something about that." He shakes his head at me and we keep walking. We stop and sit down on the beach, The waves lapping our feet and the lower half of our legs. I lay down with my head resting on Simon's lap. He smiles.

"How's your head?"

"Red and sticky." I reply.

"Then I'm glad you've decided to spread the red stickiness to my lap." He says sarcastically. I grin.

"Enjoy it, it woun't last forever." He grins again.

"For your sake it better not." I laugh.

"It still kinda hurts though." I tell him.

"What'd you do?" Simon asks. I give him a confused look.

"I already told you, I fell and hit it on the tree." I say.

"Erin-" He starts to say something but I cut him off.

" Simon, what are you trying to say? That one of the boys did this?" I ask. _If it is, he would be right._ He shrugs.

"Maybe. THe hunters are gone all day, so are you, no one would notice." Oh god. What if he figures it out? Roger would kill me! Literally! And then he'd kill Simon too! And Ralph and Piggy if Simon told them.

"Simon, why would I lie about something like that?" I ask.

"You tell me." He replies.

"Simon, if something was wrong I'd tell you. We've been over this already remember?" I lie. I feel bad lying to him, but it's better this way. Isn't it?

"Yea, I guess we have. But, I just get worried." he admits.

"As sweet as that it, you really don't need to worry about me." I assure him. Simon grins.

"Like that's gonna stop me." I smile and sit up, resting my head on his shoulder instead of his lap. I start shivering; the sun had gone down while I was unconscious and it was beginning to get cold. Simon notices.

"You cold?" He asks. I nod. He unties the black choir jacket he's kept tied around his waist for whatever reason and drapes it over my shoulders. I grab the edges and pull it tighter around me as he puts his arm around me.

"Thanks." I say.

"No problem." We sit in comfortable silence for a while.

"Hey Simon? You were in the choir right?' He nods. "Do you think you could sing for me?" I ask.

"I don't know. It's been a while since I practiced, I probably won'e be any good." He says. I pout.

"Oh come on. Please Simon? Just once?" He sighs.

"I guess I can do it just once. What do you want me to sing?" He asks. I think for a second.

"I don't know, give me options."

"Okay, between 'Basket Case,' and 'The Middle." Simon says.

"Tose are two of my favorite Green Day songs, you can't ask me to choose between them!" I exclaim. "Just surprise me." He stands up and I put my arms in the sleeves of a jacket instead of using it like a blanket. THen he smiles at me and starts singing 'The Middle."

"**Hey, don't write yourself off yet  
>It's only in you head you feel left out or looked down on.<br>Just try your best, try everything you can  
>And don't you worry what they tell themselves when you're away<strong>

**"It just takes some time  
>Little girl you're in the middle of the ride<br>Everything, everything will be just fine  
>Everything, everything will be all right" <strong>I laugh as he dances around, making a total idiot of himself. I've finally found someone with worse moves than mine! His bus driver needs work though. Tsk tsk Simon.

**"Hey, you know they're all the same  
>You know you're doing better on your own, so don't buy in<br>Live right now, yeah, just be yourself  
>And don't you worry if it's good enough for someone else<strong>

**"It just takes some time  
>Little girl you're in the middle of the ride<br>Everything everything will be just fine  
>Everything everything will be all right" <strong>Bridge time. Simon stops singing and becomes the Jimmy Hendricks of air guitarists, making the guitar sounds with his mouth. He gets _really _into the air guitar playing too. He uses the whammie bar, tries to amke it sound like he's playing chords, moves his hand up and down the neck. He even slides forward on his knees (probably not the brightest idea. He's gonna have some serious sand burns later). This dude's getting serious. And it's hilarious.

**"It just takes some time  
>Little girl you're in the middle of the ride<br>Everything everything will be just fine  
>Everything everything will be all right<strong>

**"Hey don't write yourself off yet  
>It's only in your head you feel left out or looked down on<br>Just try your best, try everything you can  
>And don't you worry what they'll tell themselves when you're away<strong>

**"It just takes some time  
>Little girl you're in the middle of the ride<br>Everything everything will be just fine  
>Everything everything will be all right<strong>

**"It just takes some time  
>Little girl you'r in the middle of the ride<br>Everything everything will be just fine  
>Everything everything will be all right" <strong>He finishes singing and sits down next to me again.

"I don't know what you were talking about, that sounded great Simon." I say. "The air guitar was a nice touch." He grins.

"Thanks." We hear the yells and cries of the hunters, and not far off Jack yells, "Simon! Quit fucking around and help us out over here!" Simon sighs.

"Dinner time." He helps me up and we walk back to the camp.

**Eh? Eh? What'd you think? not bad right? Didn't think so. Now, since I have nothing to say right now except check out my miscellaneous stories, review like there's no tomorrow!**


	13. The Gypsy Rover

**Hiya! I know it's been forever since I updated this, and I feel really bad about that because I've been updating other stories, but look at the bright side! It hasn't been a full two months like it was with Neverland. No, I've still got two weeks until it's two months in between. I tried to write as much as I could during this chapter though, to make up for it. There's not much fluffiness, something this story is kind of lacking I've noticed, but there's plenty of action, so I hope that appeases you. The song at the end is "Gypsy Rover" by the Clancy Brothers. It's a pretty old Irish folk song sung by a really old Irish band my Grandpa used to listen to. Hope you like this chapter!**

It's not until we get back to camp that I remember the fact I've spent weeks trying to memorize: Jack= hunters= dinner= pig. If you really think about it, that phrase is both cannibalistic and bitchy, but only if you _really _think about it. Anyway, back to the issue at hand. I may not be a vegan, or a vegetarian, or even a vegetarian wannabe, but I'm the poster child for picky eaters, and pork, beef, barbeques and me, yea, we're not really on speaking terms. Nor have we ever been, for that matter. So my main focuses since arriving here have all been meat related: don't be some piece of meat, don't be dead meat, and more than anything, don't eat meat. Suffice to say, my body now _has _no meat; I"m really just sking and bones at this point. I've always managed to come up with some crafty way to avoid breakfast, lunch and dinner with the boys, one of which included tooth blood, a choir jacket with some very suspicious stains, a glance at pig guts, and one particularly nasty smelling littlun. My mouth didn't taste quite right for days, but hey, anything to avoid eating pig right? But with Ralph and Simon on edge the way they've been, I"m not sure I can manage. If I say I need to go to the bathroom, SImon willl send me with littluns to act as a brigade of itty bitty bodygaurds. Oh yea, I wouldn't put it past him to sink that low. After racking my brain and finding nothing, I reluctantly take my seat between Simon and Piggy.

After a nauseating display of pig guts and blood, Jack begins distributing the meat, the hunters getting first pick and then the rest of us. He tosses a piece at me, but I just shrink slightly, kick it away, and continue nibbling on a mango, another thing I hate but this I"m much more willing to tolerate.

"What's your problem?" Jack asks. I don't answer, just look at the bloody lump in fron of me. "It's meat. Eat it." He watches expectantly. I stare at the meat as though I expect it to sprout green hair and three eyes, then look up at Jack and gulp. He is one very hot, very terrifying dude.

"I-I'm a vegetarian." I choke out in a fearful squeak.

"Not anymore you're not. Eat it or else your hair will fall out and you'll be bald, sickly, _and _anorexic." I instinctively glare, a reflex triggered by the same sentence my older brother and sister have said at nearly ever meal as far back as I can remember. Mostly my sister. Jack glares back, curiosity apparent in his eyes. I rarely speak, and have never had the audacity to glare at any of the big scary hunters, excepting Roger, and glaring at Jack is something few have the nerve to do. It's obvious he's testing me, seeing how far I'll go before I back down and become the spineless, mousy little girl they expect me to be. I glare harder. Every shy kid has their limits, and nothing gets me like my lifelong opposition to meat. It's not political or anything, just a natural disgust at the taste. I refuse to let that filth anywhere near my mouth. Jack's glare intensifies and he breaks the shocked silence my sudden rebellion has sparked.

"You're eating the meat." He turns away and continues chucking hunks of meat in people's faces. He's left no room for argument, but I decide to try my luck anyways.

"Make me," I say, raising my voice. I see the muscles in his back contract, his shoulders arching backwards in teh way that military leaders seem to always carry theirs, and his whole body is stiff as he turns back to look at me. His sun baked skin has paled, his eyebrows face pointedly downward, and I'm fairly sure he's burst a vein. If my parents hadn't used the scary face tactic a million times to try to make me eat, I'm sure I'd be pissing myself right now. What a waste of a terrifying face. His fists are clenched so tightly his knuckles have turned white. I recognize the look in his eyes from all of my many encounters with hsi faithful lapdog Roger. Shit. What did I get myself into?

Just like that, the palm of his hand is making a beeline for my face. I hardly even flinch. After all, I've certainly had worse, and I'd rather a slap from Jack than a punch from Roger. Wow. It's gotten to the point that I have a preference to how I'm abused (aside from the obvious verbal vs. phsyical vs. s-ual, which I'm sure everyone has a shared view point on). Before his hand can make contact, Ralph, that wonderful boy, my b londe savior, that darling little angel, comes to my rescue, grabbing Jack's forearm and uanking it back.

"Jack, what the _fuck _do you think you're doing?" He cries in outrage. Jack's expression goes blank, as if he himself can't believe what he was about to do.

"I- I-" He can't seem to think of anything to say in his own defense. Simon jumps to his feet with a furious look on his face. Without saying a word, he kicks Jack where the sun don't shine and tackles him to the ground. Yikes. Now I really see another reason not to let Simon know about the Roger situation. He's an angry little elf. Now he's start some sort of fight that he told me himself he can't win. Again, what have I don? Soon they're surrounded by hunters and other biguns chanting "fight, fight, fight!" and Ralph and Piggy are trying to yank Simon oiff Jack and calm them both down. In the chaos of the moment, I escape into the jungle, praying not to be followed.

A few minutes later, the distant yelling has stopped and that can only mean one thing. The fight's over and they realized that I'm gone. Disappearing during the day is one thing, at night they'll be worried about the 'beast' getting me. They're going to come looking for me. Great. I pick up my pace to try to avoid them. If I can make it to the meadow, only Simon will know where to find me.

"Erin!" I hear someone yell. Well, there goes that plan. I start running. Maybe all the food he wolfed down will weigh him down. I make it maybe a hundred feet before a hand grabs my arm and roughly tugs me back. I crash into Roger, banging my head on his chin.

"Ow!" We both groan at the same time. After a mometn of me rubbing my forehead and him kind of flexing his jaw and rubbing his chin, he says, "What the hell were you doing back there?"

"Fighting for my right to starve in peace!" I yell. He gives me a look like that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard.

"You actually want to starve?" He asks.

"Well, considering my alternatives are being beaten to death, heat stroke, heart attack, cholera, measles, mumps, skin cancer, eating meat, and dying of old age stuck on an island with you people, yea, starving is sounding pretty nice." He stares at me blankly.

"How does skin cancer factor in there?"

"You can get it from having too much sun exposure." I reply.

"Shingles?"

"Deadly chicken pox for old people and young adults. I'm surrounded by germy little kids, I've never gotten chicken pox, I'm bound to get shingles some time." I say.

"And what's cholera?" This is by far the worst one for him to ask.

"You get it from contaminated water and contaminated fish. Then you have perpetual explosive diarrhea until you're so dehydrated that you die." I explain uncomfortably. "Extremely painful." He's barely containing a laugh.

"So basically you _SHIT _yourself to death?" He asks, smirking.

"Essentially, yes." Roger starts cracking up.

"That's hilarious!" He laughs.

"And extremely painful," I point out.

"Even funnier!" I roll my eyes.

"Of course, a puppy kicker like you would find that funny." He raises an eyebrow.

"If I'm a puppy kicker, does that mean you're a tree hugger?" I am beyond insulted.

"Hells no!" I exclaim. "I'm a puppy kicker and proud. But I mean you in a literal sense. You would kick a puppy and laugh like you were listening to Jim Gaffigan's tirade against Hot Pockets!" I say. Then I think for a second. "Why are we even having this conversation?"

"Right. Main point, ticking me off is one thing. No one gives a damn what I think unless they think I'm plotting against them, in which case they are terrified and want to get on my good side. But Jack, they all want his approval. He could turn more than half the older kids against you with the snap of his fingers." He says forebodingly.

"Good to know. Buh-bye now." I start to walk away, but he grabs my arm and yanks me back, holding me in front of him with an iron grip that I"m sure will leave my most irksome bruise yet.

"This is serious. Tick him off again, and he'll make it my job to make your life living hell. And trust me, living hell is my specialty. Just a warning, because I'm hoping to save my, um, most creative projects for Ralph and Piggy and that little twerp Simon. Now let's go back, Ralph's already sent out a search party for you. And for Christ's sake, cover up your god damn bruises!" He pulls my bangs out from behind my ear so they curtain the bruise on the side of my face.

"I'm not going back with you!" I try to pull my arm away, but he holds on tightly.

"Yes you are.''

"No I"m not! Now let me go dick head!" I try to take my arm back again and this time I'm successful. I kick him in the nuts not once, not twice, not even thrice, but four times, and he cruples to the ground moaning in pain. I take this as my oppurtunity to sprint full speed in the direction of Simon's meadow.

As soon as I get there, I allow myself to collapse and just lay there, staring at the sky. The grass rubs against the bare portion of my arms and legs and makes them itchy, but I don't move. I just stare up at the stars, trying to recall the legends for each of the constellations. This causes my mind to wander to Percy Jackson and how I'd dump Simon in a second if Nico, Percy, or Luke were on this island. The dudes in those books were seriously smoking! I hear some branches behind me snapping.

"Buzz _off _Roger!" I yell.

"Well, I don't think I'm Roger... Should your automatic assumption that I was worry me?" I sit up and straighten out my shorts and camisole, which have wrinkled and come up slightly.

"Oh, sorry Simon!" He laughs and sits down next to me.

"Can I sit with you?" I nod.

"You already are." He grins sheepishly.

"Yea, right." I lie back down and he does too. He looks over at me. "Are you okay? You ran off pretty fast."

"Yea, I'm fine. I just didn't want to watch Jack kick your ass," I say teasingly.

"Hey!" He says defensively. I laugh. "For your information, I won that fight. You know, after Ralph started helping out." I laugh again and grab his hand. We just lie there for a second and I listen to the sound of his breathing. It's so relaxing, just being there with him, and I find myself falling asleep. That is, until I hear him say, "It's Jack isn't it?" I sit up again.

"What?" He sits up.

"He's the one that did this," He traces his fingers along the brusie on the side of my face. "right?"

"Of course not!" I exclaim. "That's the first time I've ever been within fifty feet of him. Besides, I-"

"Fell, you told me. Thing is Erin, that's BS and we both know it." I think of something a girl in a story I read did to distract her really protective friend and begin massaging his hand with my thumb. "So who- what- would you stop doing that?"

"Simon-" He cuts me off again.

"Don't deny it this time." He holds up my arm and gestures to my wrist, where there is now one purple bruise for each of Roger's fingers. "How do you explain these?"

"I was walking around and fell on a hand shaped rock." I reply, praying he'll by it. Simon snorts. Well, at least I gave it the old college try.

"Now don't tell me. This wasn't here earlier. Can't be Jack, Ralph, or Piggy, they stayed back at camp. I doubt Ralph and Piggy would do this anyway. Who was in the search party? Samneric, no, eleven year olds' fingers aren't this big. Some littluns went, but they're out of the question. The hunters, that's who we're looking for. Maurice maybe, or Rober, Henry perhaps. Of how about Billy or Tony? Roger?" I try to cover up the way I winced at the mention of Roger's name by ignoring him, standing up, and beginning to walk away. His face deflates. "Erin! You're not mad at me are you?" I smile reassuringly.

"No, just sleepy. I'm going back to the camp. Coming?" He rises and we walk back to the camp. Everyone's returned by the time we get there.

I'm about to go to sleep when I remember the littluns. It's my job to put them to bed, sort of speak, they can't sleep unless I do. Sighing, I stand and walk over to their shelter. It only takes a few minutes to get tehm to lie down and cover them with the blanket we've fashioned from some of the hunters' cloaks.

"Erin?" Percival calls as I'm about to walk out.

"Yea Perce?"

"Can you sing us a song like my mommy used to?" I smile.

"Sure, what do you want me to sing?" I ask. He shrugs.

"Anything." I think for a second, then remember a song my mom used to sing to me when I was little.

"**The gypsy rover came over the hill.  
><strong>**Down through the valley so shady  
>He whistled and he sang til the greenwoods rang<br>And he won the heart of a lady**

**Ah- de- do, ah- de- do- da- day  
>Ah- de- do, ah- de- da- ay<br>He whistled and he sang til the greenwoods rang  
>And he won the heart of a lady<strong>

**"She left her father's castle's gates  
>She left her own fine lover<br>She left her servants and her state  
>To follow the gypsy rover<strong>

**"Her father saddled up his fastest steed  
>And roamed the valleys all over<br>Sought his daughter at great speed  
>And the whistling of the gypsy rover<strong>

**"He came at last to a mansion fine  
>Down by the river Claydee<br>And there was music and there was wine  
>For the gypsy and his lady<strong>

**"'He is no gypsy, my father' she said  
>'but lord of these lands all over<br>And I shall stay til my dying day  
>With my whistling gypsy rover'" <strong>Soon enough, almost all of them have fallen asleeo. Percival reaches up and hugs me.

"Good night Erin." He says sleepily.

"G'night Perce," With that, I walk out and return to the shelter I stay in with Ralph, Piggy, and Samneric. SImon has his own because he gets sick a lot and no one wants to catch whatever he has. I curl up in one of the corners, far away from the boys, and almost instantly, I'm asleep.

**Nearly three thousand words! How's that for a chpater! I know what your thinking "all that hoop an holler over a little piece of meat?" But that's not all it's about. This was meant to show how high the tensions between all the boys have become, something you can't really see due to Erin's choice in friends., and how volatile the mood is on the island. Even something as little as that could set them off, mostly because Jack wants everyone to follow him when the time comes which, believe me, is much sooner than you might think. Anyways, hope you liked the chapter, reviews would be nice :D**


	14. Uprising

**Hey guys! Miss me? Yea, I bet you didn't. Haha. Well, if you didn't miss me, I hope you at least missed Erin and this story because I worked really hard to write you a nice long dramatic chapter. And I think I did a pretty awesome job with it, but that's just my personal opinion. There's really not a lot of Simon/Erin fluff, sorry to those of you who like that, but still plenty of the drama and action and violence that I know you all love. So before I start, there's something I'd like to say to the reviewers, but I'm too lazy to, so I've hired Erin to do it for me. Take it away!  
>To lovelifegymnastics: If Hammsters was answering this, she'd probably say something along the lines of "Awwwwwww thanks!" And in reply to your comment about Simon, yes. Yes he is. *starts daydreaming about Simon*<br>Hammsters: Aw gross! Dude! No daydreaming on the job! Sheesh, do I have to do everything? I'm taking over from here  
>To Angel4eva-15: Yes, Jack is quite the idiot, I must agree. But I'm afraid you have the wrong idea about Roger. He's the bad guy in this story. He's not at all nicer than Jack. Not. At. All. Whenever he does something that can even be conceived as nice, it's because he's modeling himself after someone who will be mentioned at a later time. *Spoiler alert! It's his brother!*<br>To A Random Person: Hmmmmmmm... *in a strange accent* very interesting. You have a friend named Erin who is similar to Erin? Huh. I guess people with that name are just awesome by nature. Yes, Roger is a very sexy creep. thank you for noticing, and in response to your idea about Simon and Jack...huh. Very interesting thought...  
>To SideshowJazz1: Thanks!<br>Now that that's settled, Twinkies all around! A. Because snickerdoodles and chocolate chip cookies are for chumps, B. They won't be around much longer *sniff sniff* and C. The great lord Tallahassee commands it! Heheh. If you don't get that, watch Zombieland**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Flies  
>Song: Uprising by Muse<strong>

Tonight I dream of home. I recollect every detail: the ever lingering smell of pizza in the kitchen and my sister's perfume in our room, my older brother Jack's favorite Irish rock bands blasting from his room and Coheed and Cambria blasting from mine when Alaina's home, the classic battle of the thermostat between Alaina and my dad. I can still smell old man when I sit in The Judge's- our family's Casper the friendly ghost- chari, even if I'm not really there. It feels so real, I want it to be so bad.

"Hey Babe!" My sister greets me as she skips into the room. "Wanna bake cookies?" Heck no, but I tell her I will anyway. Even in a dream, Alaina would make me play Monopoly with her as an alternative, and her cookies are killer. Besides, older sisters who don't avoid their little sisters like the plague are rare, especially among the ones in college. It's fun for a while, being with my sister again, even if it is just a dream. But then the dream turns bad. The kitchen fades and becomes the island. All around, I hear screaming and yelling, even the hunters chanting, "Kill the beast, slit its throat, spill its blood!" Everyone is there, and only one person besides me isn't participating in the savagery: Roger. He's holding my arm possessively, keeping me close at his side. There's a mischevious grin on his face that makes my heart flutter despite his wicked sharp canines that gleam eerily in the firelight. Back home I always crushed on the boys that smiled like that. Then he kisses me and this time I don't fight it off. I even kiss him back. Somehow, I don't feel like there's anything wrong with that. There's a fogginess in my mind that's rid me of all sensibility, making me sway o my heels and giggle girlishly at nothing. Then my heart throbs and the fog clears. I pull away from Roger, but the damage has already been done.

**Paranoia is in bloom  
>The PR transmissions will resume<br>They'll try to push drugs that keep us all dumbed down  
>And hope that we will never see the truth around<br>(So come on)**

"Erin?" I hear Simon say softly. The look of hurt on his face hits me like a cannonball, searing worse than any blow Roger could give me. A lead weight drops in my stomach and my mouth suddenly tastes like copper. I look at Roger and see a blackish red liquid around his mouth and inside it. Blood. It must be on mine as well.

"Simon I-" I'm about to explain but the scenery begins to change. His skin pales, as do mine and Ralph's. The hunters now surround us and they've changed as well. They're all in just their boxers- gross- their skin is more tanned, their muscles are more toned- can you say hot?- and they've painted their chests and faces red, black, brown, and white. It seems the older and more improtant they are, the cooler and more elaborate their paint is, the more painted they are, and the more intricate the designs. Roger's is by far the creepiest: all black and white except for bloody handprints on his upper arms, a black ring around his right arm just above the handprint and on the other is a band made of what I hope is pig bones. Last of all, vertically cut into the inner part of his forearms are the letters SPE. What the heck could that stand for? Then I notice Simon, and I mean really notice him. He's emaciated and sickly, like he hasn't eaten in days, with black and blue bruises all over along with deep red scars and cuts. His hands are bound with vines. Roger grins maliciously at him.

"Time for your punishment Monroe," he says with a sadistic tone of voice.

"Leave him alone!" I try to run to Simon, but someone strong grabs my arm and Roger still has a firm grip on the other one. I turn and see Jack, who's paint is even more elaborate than Roger's. He's smiling darkly.

"No no, we want you to see this." He stands behind me and grabs my other arm while Roger approaches Simon with a spear in one hand and his knife in the other. I squeeze my eyes shut, but hearing his cries of pain is just as bad as watching it happen. Then I hear a disgusting splattering sound and wake up. Turns out I didn't imagine the copper taste; I bit my tongue in my sleep and now it's bleeding. Gross. My stomach and gag reflex then decide it's time to create the aforementioned splattering sound. The rest of the day, for me anyway, is spent in Simon's shelter, since he's usually sick anyways and no one else wanted to catch whatever it is I have. Simon sits with me almost the whole time and Ralph comes to keepp me company until he comes back whenever he does leave. Simon's not worried about getting sick- he holds my hand and sometimes puts his arm around me- but Ralph puts as much distance between us as possible except when he's checking to see if my forehead's still hot. I've had a raging fever all day. Simon and I talk a little about books and movies and school, but we avoid the tougher subjects like my injuries and rescue and tensions in the group. Then Piggy shows up and we have a nerd showdown.

**Another promise, another scene  
>Another packaged lie to keep us trapped in greed,<br>And all the green belts wrapped around our minds,  
>And endless red tape to keep the truth confined<br>(So come on)**

"I cried during "Titanic."" Simon offers. He's a bit of an amateur, but cut him a break, it's his first nerd off.

"Aw!" I say, throwing my arms around his neck and squishing the sides of our faces together. It is rather sweet.

"Amateur!" Piggy sings, laughing. "Okay, my turn. I go to comic book conventions in my spare time."

"Ah, that's nothing!" I say passively.

"I'd like to see you top it." I look at him quizzically.

"Is that a challenge?"

"It's not a challenge if you can't beat it," he replies, having a caliant go at a smirk, which is ultimately an epic fail.

"Trust me, I can," I say confidently. He rolls his eyes.

"Oh please, you couldn't beat that. Unless- no. No you're not," he says, laughing a bit.

"Not what?" Simon asks. Aw, his naivete's so adorable.

"You're not one of those kids who write fanfiction are you?" I grin.

"Guilty as charged." He starts cracking up.

"You. Are. A dweeb!" He laughs. Simon just looks confused.

"What the heck is fanfiction?" He asks.

"Nerd site," Piggy says simply. I elbow him.

"You're one to talk Sprocket," I say.

"It's Spock." He corrects me. I roll my eyes.

"I know Piggy." I reply. I turn back to Simon. "Fanfiction is a website where people write stories about books they've read." He blinks a few times.

"Wow. I am dating a nerd." I smack him on the arm. This goes on a while until we get whiney. Piggy's doing most of the complaining so far.

"And everyone calls me Piggy! Even you guys! I mean, I know you two and Ralph don't mean anything by it, but the others do," He props his head up on his hands. Simon and I look at each other guiltily, then I put a hand on Piggy's arm- which is actually rather thin now since the hunters won't let him eat any meat.

"I can't believe I never asked. Piggy, what's your real name?" He looks up, and a little pride has returned to his dignified face.

"Daniel Golding. Danny for short," he says. I grin and stick out my hand.

"Erin FitzGerald. Pleased to meet you Danny Golding." He grins his signature lopsided smile and shakes my hand. _Daniel, Danny, Piggy, Golding. _I go through his names in my mind and a lightbulb goes on in my head. "Hey wait a minute! Golding! Isn't that the last name of the author of _Lord of the Flies?_" I ask excitedly. He nods.

"William Golding. He's my great-grandpa." Piggy- no wait Danny, got to get used to that- replies. I beam a little, giving him a suspicious look.

"You're shitting me right?" He shakes his head and I grin excitedly. 'No way! That's, like, my favorite book! It's what I write fanfiction about! Dude, I idolize your great-grandpa! How weird is that?" He laughs.

"Well, that's a breath of fresh air. Kids are normally telling me what a complete and utter piece of shit _Lord of the Flies _is." I gasp at the complete blasphemy of it all and Simon laughs.

"What?" P- I mean Danny- and I ask at the same time.

"Nothing, it's just that I never thought _I'd _be the coolest person in a room." I smack him on the arm playfully.

"I don't know, I think we're pretty cool. Don't you Erin?" I nod.

"Oh yes, very much so. Because we didn't just have a contest to prove the exact opposite of that." We get to talking about _Lord of the Flies _and then things start to seem weird. "Don't you think it's kind of odd that William Golding wrote about a bunch of boys, including one nicknamed Piggy, on an island and sixty or so years later, his great-grandson, who's conveniently nicknamed Piggy, gets stuck on an island?" They both shrug.

**They will not force us  
>They will stop degrading us<br>They will not control us  
>We will be victorious<br>(So come on)**

"So? It's a coincidence." Simon replies.

"That's actuallly where I got my nickname from, so I don't think it counts." They don't think much of it, but I'm concerned, so I continue.

"But what about the other similarities? Jack, Roger, the choir, the hunters, Ralph, the twins, the fire, the littluns, the conch, Willie?" Looking at Simon, I add, "Simon and the meadow?" The two of them look at each other briefly and shrug it off.

"I'm sure it's nothing." Simon seems relaxed enough, but I can see the alarm and fear in his eyes. He knows as well as I do that if I'm right, his remaining days are in the single digits. Piggy doesn't seem as concerned about his possible fate

"Besides, was there a girl named Erin in the book?" Piggy- eh, I'll get it eventually- asks. I shake my head.

"Maybe she was editted out," I say.

"Why would he take out a whole character?" Simon asks.

"I don't know! Too gory of a death? Or maybe to keep it PG!" Their eyes widen and they flush uncomfortably. I roll my eyes. "Oh come on! One girl and thirty plus teenage boys? Thinkgs go wrong and I'm headed one way or the other, and I've read enough fanfiction to know which it'll be!" The two of them pale more and it's easy to tell they didn't grow up with a bunch of perverts like I did, and even hinting at scuh a thing is unthinkable in their minds. I roll my eyes again.

"Look Erin, I'm right in front of you, am I not?" I agree that he is, in fact, sitting in front of me. "Are my brains spilled on a rock beneath a cliff?" I shake my head. "Is the conch in a million pieces?"

"No."

"Has Simon been ripped to shreds? Have his tattered remains been set adrift in the ocean?" Simon pales noticeably and gulps. The though of such a fate has clearly set him on edge. I grab his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.

"No, he hasn't."

"And have the hunters left and started their own tribe led by Jack?" Piggy asks.

"Not that I know of." Piggy gives me an exhasperated look but doesn't comment.

**Interchanging mind control  
>Come let the revolution take it's toll<br>If you could flip a switch and open your third eye  
>You'd see that<br>We should never be afraid to die  
>(So come on)<strong>

"As long as the hunters don't leave and Ralph keeps control, everything's going to be okay," he assures me. I calm down a bit, knowing he's right. Just then, Ralph sticks his head in the door.

"Hey Simon, Piggy, can you guys give me a hand out here? One of the shelters just collapsed." Simon nods.

"Yea, we'll be right out." Ralph half smiles and I notice there's something off about him. He's worried about something or stressed. Either way, that's not good for our precarious situation. He pulls his head back out and Simon and Piggy both stand.

"We'll be back in a bit." Piggy says. He walks out and Simon follows, but turns back at the last second. He crouches down and hugs me tightly, whispering, "I'm not going anywhere, I promise." Then he vanishes out the door to help Ralph and Piggy. Boy do I hope he's right.

* * *

><p>"We need to talk." The littluns all jump slightly, caught off guard by Roger's sudden appearance behind me. I, however, don't even bat an eye; Roger sneaking up on me has already become routine. I just continue gently scrubbing the littluns with water. If I don't keep them clean, all those cuts of theirs will become infected and then where will we be? I remove the last spot of dirt from Percival's face, then stand and face Roger, crossing my arms in annoyance.<p>

"What do you want Roger?" I ask, sighing.

"I think I made myself clear. I want to talk." I roll my eyes.

"Then talk." He looks pointedly at the littluns.

"In private." I snort.

"Yea right. I like my face the way it is thank you very much." I bend down again and return to cleaning the next littlun's face.

"Look, this is important," he says impatiently.

"And so was Operation Sealion. Doesn't mean Hitler got his way. Now off with you Mr. Goering," I say, shooing him away. He scoffs,

"You're impossible." I look back and grin.

"It's a gift." He rolls his eyes and stalks off. _I claim this battle for ERIN!_

* * *

><p>Well, now that' I've finally gotten to feeling better, I've decided to go for a run. A strange decision, I know- especially since I'm sick, verging on accidental anorexia, and the target of one seriously messed up dude, but hey, look at things from my side! I probably missed the cross country season, but I'm a stud at track and I want to be in decent shape for that. Simon, Danny- ha! I got it!- and Ralph tried to talk me out of it, but it didn't work. I'm runniong, and nothing's going to stop me.<p>

Well, except maybe exhaustion.

**Rise up and take the power back  
>It's time the fat cats had a heart attack<br>You know that their time's coming to an end  
>We have to unify and watch our flag ascend<strong>

Once I'm too tired to run anymore, I stop and start walking towards the nearest pond that I know about. I plan on sticking around for a while too. You see, my problem is that when I'm tired my brain is too focused on obsessing over how tired I am to filter my htoughts. I've pissed off more people that way than I care to admit. But for some reason, trouble just has a bad habit of finding me.

"Erin?" I hear a voice behind me. Aw shit. There's a lot of filtering that needs to be going on to have a conversation with this guy. I turn to face Roger, along with the other hunters I see, and give them a sickly sweet smile.

"Good day National Socialists, how are you today?" God I hope they didn't understand that. I nod at Roger as a sort of greeting. "Mr. Stalin." Oh dear lord somebody please shut me up before I say- "Heil Hitler!" I blurt, Nazi saluting Jack. Oh I've really done it now. I've released my every opinion about them in three sentences. While comparing them to the Nazis. And Hitler. And the scum bag who did way more damage than Hitler during World War II. Shit. They may not ahve figured out that the National Socialists are the Nazis, or know who Stalin was, and Roger's probably still puzzling over the Goering reference, but everyone knows who Hitler was! Jack and the hunters stare at me, insulted and dumbfounded.

"Did you just call me Hitler?" He asks.

"Yes siree Mister Hitler. Hey, can I call you Adolf?" He looks at me indignantly.

"No!"

"Sorry, sorry. Didn't you guys get back to camp hours ago?" I ask.

"We left," Roger replies. The look on his face tells me to shut up now before I get in serious trouble with all of them, but I'm not really in my right mind at the moment.

"No shit Sherlock," I say sarcastically. Jack rolls his eyes when he thinks I'm not looking.

"He means we left the group, sweet cheeks." He says with a charming smile. He takes a step closer, running a hand through his hair. "You could join us if you want." It's my turn to roll my eyes. Like I'm dumb enough to fall for that. "Ah, don't be like that." He leans in close, his breath hot on my face. "You know you want to." I snort.

"Don't get too cocky ginge," I say, stepping back and crossing my arms. "I like my guys with souls." He smirks.

"Fine. Mind if Roger takes a crack at it then?" Roger joins in the smirking.

"Actually-" I begin.

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind at all," Roger says, grabbing my arm. "Isn't that right Erin?" I jerk my arm back.

"Get away from me you creep!" He has an evil glint in his eyes.

"Who's going to make me?" He grabs both my arms and pulls me against him. I struggle to get away, panic beginning to rise in me, my snarky exhausted state gone. He just holds me tighter, grabs my face and makes me look him in the eyes.

"Look at me!" I flinch.

"Hey, ease off Roger!" I hear Maurice behind him.

"Shut up!" Roger barks, his eyes never leaving mine for longer than a second.

**They will not force us  
>They will stop degrading us<br>They will not control us  
>We will be victorious<br>So come on**

"Jack!" Maurice calls, hoping to end this.

"Sh! I want to see what she does." Jack waves him off.

"Can't you see you're scaring the crap out of her?" They all ignore Maurice this time. Roger sneers and pulls me closer.

"Don't worry. We're all going to have tons of fun." He whispers in my ear. Roger's put me through a lot, and I've stayed strong for all of it, but this one sentence breaks me. I begin to sob helplessly. Every time I try to struggle and break from his grip, he tightens his hold and makes a big show of glancing down at his knife, which hangs held at his side by his belt. The other hunters do nothing. Some laugh. Jack circles like a shark and joins Roger in taunting me. All I can think about is what I said to Piggy and Simon earlier.

_"Why would he take out a whole character?"_

_"I don't know! Too gory of a death? Or maybe to keep it PG! Oh come on! One girl and thirty plus boys? Things take a turn for the worse and I'm headed one way or the other, and I've read enough fanfiction to know which it'll be!"_

Funny. Sure, I'd considered the fact that it could happen, but I'd never really given it much thought. If anything, I thought it would be after Jack had complete control of the island and Ralph was totally isolated, like it is in the fanfiction stories I've read. But I guess not. I try struggling again, but Roger just laughs, as does Jack.

"Give it up sweetheart," Jack whispers, his lips just barely brushing my ear on accident. I shiver.

"Hey!" A voice cries out suddenly. This time it's not Maurice. This voice has authority, power, and despite everything, the hunters all go silent and Jack backs away from me. Roger turns and I can see Ralph over his shoulder, flanked on either side by Simon, Danny, and Samneric, and boy, do they all look pissed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Roger lets one of my arms go, but holds onto the other tightly.

"Relax man, we were just teasing," Jack says, laughing.

"That sure didn't look like teasing to me." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Roger rolling his eyes. Jack isn't laughing anymore. His expression is unreadable.

"Let her go Roger." Roger lets my arm go and I run to Simon. He wraps his arms around me and I bury my face in his neck. "See? She's fine."

"You call that fine? She's terrified!" Ralph yells. The two of them keep going back and forth like that for a while. Meanwhile, Simon keeps trying to calm me down and convince me that everything's going to be all right.

**They will not force us  
>They will stop degrading us<br>They will not control us  
>We will be victorious<strong>

"Ralph," Simon interrupts, "I'm going to take her back to camp." Ralph nods and Simon and I begin walking. The fighting picks up again behind us, but it doesn't bother me. I'm not even listening. Thinking about all the things those two said and what could have happened if these five didn't show up when they did, I begin to cry harder. Simon stops and hugs me tightly.

"It's okay. I'm here. I promise, I won't let any of them hurt you." He assures me. I nod and wipe the tears away and we begin walking. But his words didn't calm me, because they're just words. My train of thoughts starts going again and the subject has changed. I can only think about one thing.

If this is _Lord of the Flies, _and the hunters have left to start their own tribe, and if I'm remembering the details correctly, Simon only has one more day.

**Dun. Dun! DUUUUUUUUNNNNNNN! Mwahahahahahahahahahahaha! Evil laugh, evil laugh, evil laugh, I totally just ripped this off of the Muppet movie, evil laugh, evil laugh. haha. I'm a dork. What'd you think? Did you like the chapter? The song? It's one of my favorites, so I really hope you like the song. What do you think about all the drama with Roger and Jack attacking Erin? You didn't actually think _that _would happen did you? Because you know, this is me we're talking about. Never in any of my stories has a character had to blow the rape whistle, and hopefully they never will. I think that's kind of icky. Yea. Plus, it's a little overdone. So I"m going to keep going with the last minute saves from Ralph and Simon and the others. What did you think about Piggy being William Golding's great-grandson? I thought it was a cool idea, but that might just be me. Now for a brief history lesson.  
>This person group/ thing in history:  
>1. Who was Stalin?<br>2. What did Stalin do?  
>3. Who were the National Socialists?<br>4. What did the term "Nazi" come from?  
>5. Who was Goering?<br>6. What was Operation Sealion?  
>7. Why the heck did Hammsters have so many World War II references in this chapter?<strong>

**Whoever gets the most of these questions right in a review or a PM or whatever gets either a virtual HoHo and a virtual Twinkie, or a whole day to be spent with Simon. Completely up to you. Now review and guess away!**


	15. Blood

**Hey everybody! I'd like to start off with some thank yous. Last chapter, you guys gave me eight reviews, which is more than I've ever gotten for a chapter of Teenagers before! Whoo! Second, I'd like to congratulate Cassi Merridew, Azmaria Harmony, and SideshowJazz1. You guys either got most or all of the questions at the end of the chapter right! And, I shall also congratulate A Random Person (who is an anonymous reviewer) because he or she was the only person to correctly guess the answer to number seven: Why the heck did Hammsters have so many WWII references in this chapter? I am, in fact, studying it in school. We're taking the last test for it in like a week, so I'm pretty effin proud of myself for being able to remember all that information off the top of my head. Too bad that was all from the first section of the chapter... Haha. So you all get Twinkies, or HoHos if you prefer.**

**On a final note, I have good news. I have rediscovered something extremely important: the band that inspired me to write this story in the first place. When I wrote this story, I'd only heard two songs by them, Welcome to the Black Parade and Teenagers. Teenagers was my all time favorite song, and got me thinking about stuff that eventually led to this story. A week or two ago, I started listening to more songs by them, discovered how incredible they are, and felt pretty inspired to write. Hopefully, from now on, I'll be able to update more often thanks to them. Let's have a round of applause for My Chemical Romance everybody, even if you're not a fan. Okay. That's the end of this ridiculously long author's note! Enjoy the chapter**

**Song: Blood by My Chemical Romance**

I wake up to the sound of voices outside the shelter. At first, I try to ignore them and go back to sleep, but then I hear my name and that's the end of all this sleeping nonsense.

"What are we going to do about her?" A voice I recognize as either Sam's or Eric's asks.

"I don't know what we can do, except make sure that none of them gets within ten feet of her," Ralph replies.

"Do you think it'll work?" Danny asks.

"I hope it will," Ralph says. "It'll have to."

"It won't," Simon says, because honestly, what's an idea without a Johnny Raincloud? "Erin will find away to get out on her own, and if we make her stay in the camp she'll resent us for it. If we don't let her in on thse decisions, she'll be itching to join the hunters just for a little taste of freedom." I smile. No one knows me like Simon.

"I've never seen her argue anything before," one of the twins points out.

"Because she misses half of our arguments," Danny says. "The girl has the attention span of a goldfish." Correction. There's a good chance that Danny knows me just as well as Simon does.

"Plus, she's got this uncanny ability to twist patience into something evil. You know she's gonna do something, you just don't know what she'll do or when. It's evil I tells ya!" Well, it's about time somebody noticed my talents! I've been working on that trick for years.

"Extremely," Danny agrees. I love how these two have so much faith in me. Their voices grow fain and I can tell they're moving further away from the shelter I'm in. Damn. Well, I might as well take this opportunity to catch some extra Z's.

* * *

><p>Sand sucks.<p>

Would you like to know why? Because it's itch and hot and has a nasty habit of finding its way into my shorts and my hair. So yes, in short, sand sucks. Why Erin, how have you come across this intriguing bit of information, you wonder. Old Armenian ladies, that's how. I suppose I should expand... You see, during the Armenian genocide, women would bury all but their heads in the sand to keep from, you know, having to blow the rape whistle. I figured it worked for them, maybe it'll work for me. So now I'm buried in the sand, and rethinking my decision.

The water's getting awfully close...

Excuse me a moment while I curse the moon.

Also, my nose itches. And I can't scratch it.

I really should have put more thought into this.

Using my best nose wiggling, I try to wiggle my nose around to get the itch to go away. No go. What to do, what to do? Now my ear itches too. God freaking damn it! My left thumb has joined the party, and my forehead. Holy shit, my whole face is crawling with itchiness! It's on fire! Out of the corner of my eye, I see a little twig, the perfect kind for scratching. In my desperation, I stare at it with all the determination I can muster, silently pleading that I can move it with my eyes. It just lies there, taunting me with its unreachable stick-ness.

"You mock me," I mutter angrily at it. The stick doesn't reply.

"What the-" I hear faintly. My eyes widen and I stare at the stick disbelievingly.

"Did _you _say that?" I whisper in awe. It doesn't answer. Oh my god, I'm talking to a stick. I've officially lost my mind. Suddenly, a shadow looms over me.

"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice behind me asks. If Iweren't encased in heavy sand, I would've jumped.

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaim in surprise.

"Guess again," he quips sarcastically. The creator of the shadow is obviously Roger. Crap.

"You scared the shit out of me!" I yell.

"Don't I always?" I roll my eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I"m trying to move this twig with my mind," I say honestly.

"Oh, well pardon my interruption Anakin," he replies.

"Please, I"m more of an Obi-wan."

"You're right. I really can't see you being a homicidal maniac," he agrees. "I can be Anakin."

"Are we really having this conversation?" I ask.

"Yes, yes we are." I may not be able to see his face where I am, but I can tell he's smirking. I scowl. "So, how's the stick lifting going?" I sigh.

"Quite unfruitfully," I reply sadly.

"So, the force isn't strong with this one?" He asks, feigning concern.

"'Fraid not," I reply simply. He chuckles.

"Well, good luck. I'll leave you to it then." Oh, he's not getting away that easily.

"Like hell you will!" I exclaim. "Get over here and dig me out Vader!" He laughs.

"I suppose I can help. What do I get in return?" He asks, smirking mischievously. I think for a moment.

"Blood," I finally decide. I trun my head back and see that Roger's quirked an eyebrow.

"Blood?" He repeats. I nod, smiling proudly at my own wit.

"Gallons of the stuff," I say. From the smile on his face, I'm guessing he understands my fangirl humor. So I continue. "All that you can drink." He smirks.

"But that'll never be enough!" I laugh and he shakes his head. "You're a complete idiot."

"Love you too," I reply sarcastically. "Now unbury me!" He kneels down in front of me and starts digging in the sand. It's then that I notice his face. THere's black paint zigzagged across it and white encircling his dark eyes. "What happened to you?" He looks up.

"This?" He asks, gesturing to the paint. I nod. "All the hunters did it. Mine is definitely the best. None of them used balck, it was all red and brown and white. Not creepy at all. What do you think? Cool right?" I shrug.

"Eh, you've looked better." He rolls his eyes and continues to undig me. "Freeeeeeedooooom!" I cry as soon as he's pulled me out. After exclaiming this, I begin attacking all the itchy spots mercilessly. He chuckles.

"Okay Braveheart, why don't you head back to camp? Jack and I'll be over there in a bit, and we're going to beed your presence. Guys aren't so easy on the eyes, and it appears you're the only chick for miles." I glare at him.

"You know, I think I"ll go for a run actually." I say, walking past him. He smirks, stepping in front of me. He leans down toward me.

"Suits me sweetheart. Isolation's good. Far from your precious Simon and friends... all alone... I'm sure the other hunters would agree." His breth is hot against my neck. A chill runs down my spine and just like that, I remember that I"m in the presence of a very dangerous boy.

"F-fine. I'll go b-back to camp," I mumur, stepping back from him and heading towards the path through the woods back to camp. He just takes another step toward me.

"How cute. Stutter's back, is it sweetheart?" I shiver and continue walking. "I think I'll walk with you." This makes me stop short.

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Well, that's too bad," he counters. "Someone needs to make sure you actually get back." I look at him quizzically.

"How do I know that's not just a ploy to isolate me?" I ask. He quirks an eyebrow slightly.

"I've had you alone for about a half an hour and we're much closer to the hunters' turf than your camp. If I was going to do something, don't you think I'd have done it by now?" He asks.

"I...suppose..."

"Besides, I want you to like me don't I? The abuse is...regrettable, but unavoidable. I can't help it. Rape, on the other hand, well, even I know that's not the way to go." He sends me a sidelong glance and smiles that wicked smile that, despite everything, makes my heart flutter. I mentally curse myself and look away from him. "So, is that what your conversations with Monroe are like?" This makes me look up sharply and he chuckles.

"Not..quite. Why do you ask?" He shrugs.

"No reason. It's just that that seems to be all you two do, talk. Must have something extremely interesting to discuss." I stop short and glare at him.

"What are you trying to say?" I ask.

"Think about it. YOu're the only girl here and you're not at all hard to look at either. Every guy here's sweating for you, even Ralph and your precious Piggy-"

"Danny," I interrupt. He waves it off.

"Maseltov. SImon's actually got you and what does he do? He _talks. _A little odd don't you think?

"He's being a gentleman," I defend him.

"Nobody's _that _gentlemanly," Roger says. "Has he even ever kissed you? The times you've kissed him don't count, neither does a peck on the lips." I stay silent and he smirks. "Figured as much. Are you sure he's straight?"

"As an arrow," I reply simply.

"Huh," he says dully. "So that's what you do all day? Sit around and chat about Star Wars and My Chemical Romance?" I shake my head.

"Simon's not an MCR fan." Roger laughs.

"So wait. He has questionable sexuality _and _bad taste in music?" He whistles. "Do you know how to pick 'em!" I glare.

"Why do you have to be so mean all the time?" I snap. He puts his hands up defensively.

"Hey, I"m just teasing," he says.

"No, you're not 'just teasing!' You're always like this! All the time, you're either beating the shit out of me or making fun of me or my friends! I don't know why I even bother trying to be friendly!" I storm off, or start to anyway, but he grabs my wrist and genly pulls me back.

"Hey, I"m sorry okay?"

"Save it," I say, rolling my eyes and beginning to walk away. He pulls me back again.

"Let me make it up to you?" I sigh frustratedly.

"How?" He smiles.

"You like music right?" I nod. "Then I think I've got an idea." He grabs my hands and pulls me a little closer to him. "**Well they encourage your complete cooperation. Send you roses when they think you need to smiles." **I pull my hands back and step away.

"What are you doing?" I ask suspiciously.

"SInging, trying unsuccessfully to get you to dance with me." I take another step back.

"I don't dance," I say simply.

"Everyone dances shitbrains," he says amusedly.

"No, I don't dance because I _can't _dance. I suck royal ass at it," I tell him.

"Sure you can. Stand on my feet."

"I'm not going to stand on your feet," I say.

"Just stand on my feet," he repeats.

"I don't want to-"

"Just stand on-"

"But I don't want to-"

"Will you just-"

"No, I"m not going to-"

"JUST STAND ON MY FUCKING FEET!" He barks, losing his patience with me. I step on, grumbling about how I don't want to stand on his feet. He smirks. "Now was _that_ so hard?" I stick my tongue out at him. He laughs and starts singing again, starting to walk around clumsily with me on his feet.

"**Well they encourage your complete cooperation  
>Send you roses when they think you need to smile<br>I can't control myself because I don't know how  
>And they love me for it honestly I'll be here for a while<strong>

**"So give them blood, blood, gallons of the stuff  
>Give them all that they can drink and it'll never be enough<br>So give them blood, blood, blood!  
>Grab a glass because there's going to be a flood<strong>

**"A celebrated man amongst the gurneys  
>They can fix me proper with a bit of luck<br>The doctors and the nurses they adore me so  
>But it's really quite alarming, 'cuz I'm such an awful fuck! (Why thank you)<strong>

**"I gave you blood, blood, gallons of the stuff  
>Gave you all that you could drink and it has never been enough<br>I gave you blood, blood, blood!  
>I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love!" <strong>He finishes singing and stops moving. Then I get a bad feeling as he starts to lean closer to me. I step back.

"You're a pretty good dancer for someone with a person on their feet.," I say, trying to cover up for teh awkward moment.

"Well, you're not exactly heavey," he says. "You really need to eat more."

"That's not exactly an option since you hunters left," I say, somewhat bitterly. I don't really need the meat, but already the littluns can feel the absence of food more strongly than before.

"You know, you could come and get food whenever you need. We wouldn't make you stay," Roger says softly. He tucks a stray bit of hair behind my ear. He steps closer. "Not unless you want to." He leans in closer and just before I can step away again, I see emerald green out of the corner of my eye that freezes me. And Roger kisses me. And I know it's all come crashing down.

"Erin?" A small voice says. I jump away from Roger and look over at Simon. He looks hurt and utterly betrayed. "You're cheating on me? With_ him?" _

"Gee, don't I feel loved," Roger mutters sarcastically. We both ignore him.

"Simon, I can explain." He snorts a laugh.

"I'd love to hear this! As if I didn't just see you kiss him!" He exclaims. "The funny thing is, I should've seen it. He was the first person to go after you when Jack almost hit you. When I came and found you, you thought it was him!"

"Simon, please, just listen to me!" I plead.

"No! I"m done with you, I'm done with listening to you, I'm just done okay?" With that he stomps off angrily.

"It's not what it looked like!" I call after him. He doesn't even turn. As soon as he's out of sight, I break down crying.

"Erin, I'm really sorry," Roger says softly. He tries to put an arm around me, but I push him away.

"Don't even try to make this better! This is all your fault and you know it!" I yell. "I don't know why I even bother trying to talk to you or cover for you! Why don't you just leave me alone?" I see a sudden burst of anger in his eyes as his fist flies out. The contact sends me to the ground and makes my whole face sear with pain. Tears stream down my face faster.

"Don't you _ever _talk to me like that! Don't forget who's in charge! I can play nice, but rough housing is much more fun for me." My only response is a whimper. The intensity in his eyes lessens and he rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Jeez Erin, don't look at me like that." I muster enough courage to glare at him.

"Like what? Like I'm scared of you? Because I am."

"I never meant for you to be afraid of me. Not you," he says sadly. I stand up and brush myself off.

"Well it's a little late for that. May I remind you of Willie?" I start walking back to camp and he tries to follow me. "Please just- just-" I'm suddenly light-headed, as though all the blood has rushed to my head. I've lost my train of thought and all I can think about is the strange feeling going on inside my skull. My brain just feels fuzzy and I'm beginning to wobble. "Just-" I try again, failing epically. I stumble back, and everything's beginning to become blurry.

"Erin, are you okay?" It's Roger's voice, but it sounds, deeper...funky...wrong. Before I can figure out why, my knees buckle beneath me and then out of the blue, everything goes black.

**So, what do you think? About Roger? About Erin? About Simon? About bananas in the sky? Haha, got you with that one. What'd you think though, seriously? Before I post the next chapter, I'd love for you guys to listen to some MCR. Here are my main recommendations:  
>1. Teenagers (of course, haha)<br>2. Helena  
>3. Desolation Row (the band members all look really hot in this video)<br>4. The Ghost of You (It's got this really cool WWII theme in the video)  
>5. Famous Last Words (Again, really hot band members, especially Mikey and Gerard Way. Damn. Those Ways got some fucking fantastic genetics!)<br>6. I'm Not Okay (hilarious video, if you watch the MTV version. The other one is sad cuz it's about when Gerard was really sick)  
>7. I Don't Love You (Gerard looks hot in this one too. He always looks hot actually XD)<br>8. House of Wolves (no video but it reminds me of Roger :D)  
>9. Mama (no video but it reminds me of the hunters)<br>10. Dead (no video, but it's pretty beast)  
>Yup. So those are my suggestions. Seriously, watch the videos and give them a chance. THey're a really good band. Yup. Also, you need to listen to three of those songs to vote on my poll, which applies only to you my dear Teenagers readers! It's about Teenagers, the song that will be used in the very last chapter! Listening to these songs might give you a little hint about what's going on in that chapter too. So listen to them, vote on the poll, and review like crazy people!<strong>


	16. Blood On My Hands

**Hey guys, so I wanted to get this up last month, you know, on April 17, because that marks the first full year I've been on this website! But I had a final, so I couldn't. Then I wanted to get it up May 17 so it'd be a year and one month, but my sister came home from college and had to get her wisdom teeth pulled, so I was keeping her company. So now it's up one year, one month, and three days after I first created my account! Yay! Okay, so it doesn't have the same ring to it, but whatever. **

**The song used in this chapter is "Blood on My Hands" by The Used.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Flies**

**Enjoy!**

I wake up maybe an hour later, happy to see that I'm out of the sun and not sleeping in the sand. I'm inside a nice cool shelter with my head rest in comfortably on something. Hang on a second. What exactly is my head resting on? I look up and see the (fairly tan an muscular) upper half of Ralph leaning against the side of the shelter, which means my head must be resting in his lap. Why is it I always wake up and launch myself into an awkward situation involving the partially shirtless chief of what's left of our group? My nose starts to itch from the end of his shredded shirt rubbing against it and I sneeze. Ralph glances down, seeing that I'm now wide awake.

"How's your head?" He asks softly.

"A little numb at the moment." I try to sit up, but he gently pushes me back down.

"Sorry, Piggy's orders. He says you need to rest, but no more sleeping in case you have a concussion. And I'm sorry about the human pillow, Danny says we've got to keep your head elevated and Simon disappeared," he rambles.

"No, no it's fine." Just then, Piggy walks in with a wet strip of cloth, which I realize has been taken from Ralph's perpetually shrinking shirt. Now I feel like God's testing me. _I won't look and I won't think unclean thoughts. I won't look and I won't think unclean thoughts. _I chant in my head. _Oh, but he's just so damn shmexy! _I think I'm going to hell.

**You felt the coldness in my eyes  
>And it's something I'm not revealing<br>Thought you got used to my disguise  
>You can't shake this awful feeling<strong>

"Oh, you're awake! Good," Piggy says, smiling and dabbing at the throbbing knot on my head with the cloth. It feels so much better when he does that! Jesus Christ, what the hell is in that water? "How's your head?" He asks.

"Fucking fantastic," I reply sarcastically.

"Well, even in this your darkest hour your bitterness fails you not," he says, shaking his head at me. "From the looks of it, the swelling's gone and you should be better by tomorrow as long as you-" Danny gets cut off by the yelling and screaming of the hunters emerging from the woods. "Really? Can I not go two sentences without getting-" he's interrupted again by one last 'wahoo!' from Jack. "Apparently not."

"C'mon, let's go see what this is about," I sigh. Ralph helps me up and the three of us go to meet the hunters. As we walk, they come racing down the hill, screaming and pounding their spears. Then the skid to a halt with Jack at the from and Roger and Maurice flanking him. I take note that they're more painted now as they thrust their mostly scrawny- with the exception of Jack, Roger, and a few other kids- chests out. They continue to yell for another second of two.

"Okay Rambo, you've made your point!" Ralph exclaims once the hunters' noise dies down. "What do you want?"

"We killed a pig today!" Jack announces.

Thank you Captain Obvious," I murmur, glancing at the slaughtered creature they brought with them. Jack continues, not hearing me.

"We're having a feast! Anyone who wants can come for some meat and fun." There's silence just out of the blue and Jack shoots Roger and Maurice a look. "Now, now!" They pound the butts of their spears on the ground.

"The chief has spoken!" They shout in unison. Then the boys run off.

"See you tonight girls!" Jack calls back, laughing cruelly. Just as the others disappear into the woods, Roger stops and turns back, noticing how unenthusiastic we all are about this.

"Yea, well, you know that storm yesterday? Good news is, there was a plane." We all brighten up a little. "But it crashed." Just like our hopes and dreams. "Another good thing is, all the cargo washed up on shore and...drum roll please..." No one gives him a drum roll. "Fine. I'll give myself a drum roll." He begins pounding on his lap. "We got beer!" He yells, whooping. The boys all join in the cheering. I just roll my eyes as Roger grins, pleased with the reaction he got. He pounds his spear again then thrusts his fist in the air. "Roger has spoken!" Then he strides off confidently into the forest.

**It's the me that I let you know  
>Cause I'll never show I have my reasons<br>I hate to say that I told you so  
>But I told you so, yeah<strong>

"What an idiot." I mutter to Danny. He chuckles.

"Well, he's got these idiots' interest. Bet you Ralph goes."

"Bet you if that happens we'd both insist on tagging along." He shrugs, smiling a bit

"So Ralphie Boy," I say, "What're you thinking? Gonna partay?" I'm acting uncharacteristically in character, but my head's too frazzled for me to care about my shy chick reputation. He shrugs.

"It might be a good idea if I go. You know, see if I can talk some sense into them," he replies. I grin sideways at Danny.

"Well Danster, looks like we goin' clubbing," I say, high fiving him.

"Hold on a second," Ralph says. "You can't go there!"

"And why not?" I snap.

"Well, that was one mean bump to the head you got," Danny says. Ralph nods.

"And we're guys. Teenage boys. Hate to admit it, but get a few drinks in any of us and we'll be horny as hell. A few drinks in you, and you'll be putty, putty I tell you!" Ralph adds.

"Well, I appreciate your wish to protect my honor, but I think I can demonstrate more restraint that you think. And as for the head thing, I feel absolutely fine. Besides, it's not like this is the first time I've hit my head since landing here. I'll be fine. Dandy in fact." I see Danny rolling his eyes and stick my tongue out at him. "I'm going whether you guys like it or not."

"Erin, I'm telling you, it's a bad idea," Ralph insists. Something catches his eyes and we turn to see a seriously pissed off black-haired young man. My brief stint of forgetfulness ends and I feel a new wave of pain wash over me. "Simon, back me up here!" Simon shrugs.

**There's blood on my hands  
>Like the blood in you<br>Some things can't be treated  
>So don't make me, don't make me be myself around you<strong>

"Whatever," he replies. "She's a big girl, she can make her own decisions."

"I can't believe you! Have you both lost your minds?" Ralph exclaims. "Fine, do whatever you want Erin."

"Careful Ralph, give her too much freedom and she might jump your bones too," Simon says with a slight glare. This is where I draw the line.

"You know what, screw you," I spit at him.

"Sorry, wouldn't want to risk getting aids." Tears start welling up in my eyes. I flip him off then run into the shelters, barely keeping from crying. Once I'm out of sight, I let myself sob.

* * *

><p>I can hear the yelling and cheerin get louder as Ralph, Danny, most of the other boys from our camp, and I draw closer to where the hunters are having their feast. I start having second thoughts about going, but I shake it off. It's here with the hunters or there with Simon. I'm not going back. When we get there, Jack immediately orders Bill to give each of us a beer and a piece of meat. I give Danny my meant since, as usual, he wasn't allowed any. Dickwads. I take a moment to look around and quickly realize that almost all the boys are already drunk. A quick glance at the littered sand also tells me that they're a bunch of lightweights. Lovely. I'm happy to see that they're not letting any kids younger than twelve drink, but it seems that it's been left to these kids to babysit those who have drunk themselves senseless.<p>

Off to one side, a large group of choir boys are drunkenly chorusing in "Hurray For Beer," conducted by a littlun. Johnny, I remember his name was. A few other kids are chasing each other around, others are- get this- doing the mocarena. Jack and Roger are experiencing mad laughing fits and, as far as I can tell, they're laughing at absolutely nothing. It's really rather sad what the alcohol has done to the hunters, so why am I so tempted by the bottle of Miller in my hand? I know Ralph was right about how dangerous my being here is, and how much worse it will be if I drink. But Jack and Alaina both drink all the time! There must be something good about it. To my right, Ralph tosses his beer off to the side with a look of disgust on his face. Danny does the same. I look at the bottle in my hand, wishing I had the resolve they do. These guys are drinking, my family drinks, one time one of my cousins let me have a sip of their beer and it was AWESOME. It couldn't hurt that much, could it? I look from the bottle to Ralph and Piggy's expectant faces. What to do, what to do...

**Straight from your eyes it's burying me  
>Beautifully so disfigured<br>This other side that you can't see  
>Just praying you won't remember<strong>

"Hey sweet cheeks!" Roger slurs drunkenly, hiccupping at the end of his sentence. His sudden appearance lets me off of making a decision for the time being. "How's it, uh, how's it hanging?" He starts giggling a bit. "I had a dirty thought."

"Do I want to know?" He shakes his head, smiling guiltily like a little kid. "Are you going to tell me anyway?" He grins wider. I roll my eyes. "Get it over with." He looks covertly at Danny and Ralph, then whispers something so explicit I can't legally share the details, though I can say it involved a tree. I jump away, repulsed, and slap him. Anger flares up in his eyes briefly, then immediately after his expression subdues to a pout.

"Owwie," he whimpers. "That hurt."

"Lovely," I say, starting to walk away.

"Wait Erin!" He calls. He points pathetically at my handprint on his cheek. "Kiss it better?"

"In your dreams, you drunken pervert."

"Aw." Roger thinks a moment. "Can I have your drink then?"

"No chance in hell! You've had too much to drink already!" I exclaim.

"But I want it!" He whines. "Just a sip?"

"No Roger."

"But I waaant it! Gimme!" He runs at me and tries to get the beer, but I start running too. Luckily, his drunken stupor has made him slow and clumsy, so I get ahead of him quickly. Once I stop though, he keeps coming. I see only one solution. Thinking fast, I pry off the cap and take a few giant gulps. My eyes sting a bit when I stop, but I have only one thought. _Crap, that was fantastic! _I see that Roger's here and his idiotic smile has been replaced with a smirk. "Knew that'd get you to drink," he says in his usual superior tone. I gape at him.

**Feel the pain that I never show  
>And I hope you know it's never healing<br>I hate to say that I told you so  
>But I told you so, yeah<strong>

"You were just pretending to be drunk?" I yell. He nods.

"Please, I've had two beers. Unlike the rest of these sorry sons of bitches, I'm no lightweight."

"I can't believe I just drank underage because of you!" He smirks more.

"You want more though, don't you?" His tone suggests he already knows.

"...Maybe." He grins.

"Drink some, _I dare you._" Well, I've never been one to turn down a dare. I finish off the beer. "Thatta girl."

"Don't 'thatta girl' me. I'm still pissed at you." I start walking away, but he grabs my wrist tightly and pulls me back. There's a sick smile on his face.

"Don't forget who you're talking to Erin. Just because I've been nicer recently, doesn't mean I'll let you get away with treating me like one of those friends of yours."

"Roger, let go, that hurts!" I say, tugging my wrist out of his hand.

"Watch your tongue next time," he warns, walking away. I walk back to Danny and Ralph and sit down between them. Ralph stares at me in disbelief.

"Did you drink that whole bottle in the five minutes since you walked off?" I stare at my feet shamefully and rub the bruises forming on my wrist.

"I'm not proud."

A few hours and more than a few drinks later, everyone is drunk but me and Danny. Even Ralph gave in, and that kid was shitfaced within three gulps of a 312. I'd be drunk too if it weren't for Danny. I was halfway through with my third Miller when he got fed up and took it from me. After that, he took it upon himself to make sure Ralph and I didn't even look too closely at the drinks. He also talked some sense into Ralph, and the two have been making sure none of the drunken pervs get near me. I haven't quite decided how to feel about this.

"Hiya, Ralphadoodly!" Jack sings, swaying past. "Ya gaurding your giiiiiirlyfrieeeend?" He chuckles stupidly.

"She's not my girlyfriend, she's my bestest friend ever!" Ralph then envelopes me in a big bear hug. "Did you know you're my best friend? Cuz you are. Am I your best friend? I should be, cuz you're mine. We can be best friends forever! I'm your best friend though right?"

"Sure Ralph, you're my best friend." I try to push him away as gently as possible, but he's relentless in his hugging. "Um, Danny? A little help?"

"Ralph, remove yourself from Erin's personal bubble." Ralph pouts, but does as he's told. We sit quietly for a while after that while the hunters around us continue to party. Eventually Ralph wanders off to argue the pros and cons of having a pet giraffe with Jack, and Danny has to go and drag him away from the fight it created.

**There's blood on my hands  
>Like the blood in you<br>Some things can't be treated  
>So don't make me, don't make me be myself around you<strong>

"Hiya sweetheart!" Roger slurs, obviously drunk for real this time. "Come with me."

"No." He makes a face.

"That wasn't a question." He grabs my hand and starts pulling me into the woods.

"Roger, let go!" I yell. He keeps pulling me along. I try to tug my hand away a few times, but it's obvious he's not letting me go back. I sigh and follow him, praying to God that he's a happy drunk. Then he slams me backwards into a tree, and that hope goes down the toilet.

"I don't get you," he says. "You don't like it when I'm mean to you, you don't like it when I'm nice to you. Honestly, there's no pleasing you!" He gets a distanced look on his face and starts muttering inaudibly to himself for a minute or two. Then he snaps out of it and starts glaring again. "Well I've given up. I'm about to ask what he means, when he starts kissing me aggressively. His fingers dig into my skin the way he always used to make sure they did. It's just like it was before he tried being nice. He moves his hands from my wrists to my face and digs his elbows into my shoulders. I yelp in pain and shove him away.

"Roger stop it! Leave me the fuck alone!" I try to sound firm and confident, but I come off like a scared little girl. Either way, I've only managed to piss Roger off. His face becomes screwed up with anger.

"You're telling me what to do now?" He hits me as hard as he can. I cry out and hold both hands over the spot beneath my eye where he hit me. "Don't tell me what to do you little bitch." He moves forward to kiss me again, but I duck my head, squeeze my eyes shut, and hold my hands over my ears.

**Straight from your eyes it's burying me  
>Beautifully so disfigured<br>The other side that you can't see  
>Just praying you won't remember<strong>

"No, no, no," I whimper repeatedly. "Please, no." He just growls.

"Shut up!" He grabs my shoulders, pulls me away from the tree, then shoves me to the ground. Then he bends down and kisses my cheek gently. "You have no idea how much I missed this," he whispers. His mouth moves from my cheek and he bites down hard on my neck for a second. Then he stands up and kicks me hard in the ribs. I whimper, but don't allow myself to cry. He continues to kick me again and again until I'm nearly screaming from the pain. Then, as he's going to kick me once again, his foot catches on something and he crashes face first into the ground.

"Owwie," he moans pathetically. I muster up the strength to stand up and hobble away as fast as I can. Every few feet I have to stop and lean against a tree, grabbing a branch like a vice, my face contorted, biting my lip against the pain. Progress is slow, but I eventually make it a safe distance away. At this point, my knees buckle and I collapse, clutching my stomach and groaning. A hot substance worms its way up through my throat, into my mouth, then into the bushes. _There goes my beer. _I keep throwing up until there's nothing left. Then I start couging and wretching. I'm coughing so much I can hardly breath, and the next thing I know I'm hacking up blood all over the innocent plant life. How lovely. THis goes on for a while, so long that I'm positive that my lungs are next on the list. But no worries, all my organs end up staying in their rightful place and I stop coughing. The area around me is soaked in sticky redness, but I don't have enough strenth to move myself yet. For the next few minutes, I just lie there panting, wiping the blood from around my mouth, occasionally groaning when I try to move. I'm not sure how long it takes to get the energy to walk again, but eventually I feel good enough to try. I push myself up off the ground and begin limping back to the feast. Once there, I'm immediately met by a frantic Danny.

**There's blood, there's blood  
>There's blood, there's blood<strong>

"Where have you been?" Then he makes a face. "What's that smell?" I sigh.

"Me. I'm that smell. I'm just coming back from puking in the bushes." Danny makes another face and takes a step back.

"Nasty." I nod.

"Yea, apparently holding your alcohol is a learned skill." He smiles a little.

"Well, if it's any consolation, you managed that beer better than all the guys. Most of them have been nursing the same drink all night." I laugh.

"Thanks Dan," I say. He opens his mouth to say something, but something behind him catches my attention. "Oh my God!" I point to the boys who are chasing Roger- who's healed fully- with their spears and jabbing the ground around him.

"They've been doing that all night. Gave poor Percival a pretty bad thunk to the head." Seeing me horrified expression, he quickly adds, "He's fine now."

"I don't like it Danny. Someone's gonna get hurt." I bite my lip and rub my arm like I always do when I'm nervous. He's about to speak, but gets cut off again.

"It's the beast!" Maurice cries, pointing to a dark mass stumbling out of the forest.

"Let's kill it!" Jack yells. The boys all charge full speed at the undistinguishable creature. For a terrifying moment, I actually fear that it's a real monster and that we're all doomed, but then I realize that's stupid. A slightly shrill scream sounds from the center of the group, from the 'beast.' So it's human. But... there's only one one person who isn't here already.

**There's blood on my hands  
><strong>**Like the blood in you  
>Some things can't be treated<br>So don't make me, don't make me be myself around you **

Oh God.

"Oh God, oh God, oh my Lord Almighty!" I chant, beginning to hyperventilate slightly.

"Relax Erin, it's not a real monster," Danny assures me. I glare.

"I'm not flipping shit because I'm afraid of a beast, I'm flipping shit because that's Simon!" His eyes widen.

"Jesus Christ..." We sprint to the group, Danny huffing and puffing as we go. Once we're there, we start prying kids from the group, but they shrug us off. I see Roger to my right and run to him.

"Roger, please, they'll listen to you. You have to stop, that's Simon!" Roger's eyes lovk on mine for a moment, and the look in them is inhuman. He says nothing, just smiles a sinister, wickedly joyful smile, and returns to attacking. His expression says it all: he knows it's Simon, he just doesn't care. I stumble back, terrified by the fact that the others could possibly be like him. No. No, they can't be. I can only think of one thing to do.

"Danny, I suggest you cover your ears." He looks up in confusion.

"Why?" Instead of answering, I take a deep breath and let out the queen mother of all earsplitting shrieks. I drag it out for nearly a minute until the last of the boys turn around. Their expressions clearly read, 'Dafuq?' I can't help but feel a little pride. I've always had the highest, most obnoxious scream of anyone I know.

**There's blood on my hands  
>(There's blood)<br>Like the blood in you  
>(There's blood)<strong>

"Thank you," I say shortly, then beginning to shove through the crowd to get to Simon. The sight makes me sick to my stomach. He's bleeding profusely from everywhere, and anywhere he isn't bleeding there's a bruise to beat any of mine. His clothes are torn to rags. He's breathing, but it's shallow. I try to say something, but I can't get a sound out. I take a deep breath and try again. "Can somebody help me? Please, I can't carry him, I need to clean up his wounds." The group remains silent and Ralph steps forward. Wordlessly, he picks Simon up and looks to me expectantly.

"Show me where to go." Without another word, we walk off into the jungle. I'm nervous as I lead Ralph to Simon's meadow, seeing as he's swaying unsurely as he walks. If he falls, would it make it harder for Simon? Would he... I try not to think about it. "Is this the place?" He asks. I nod and he sets Simon down gently. "What do we do now?"

"I think it's better if you go back to camp and get some sleep." He looks hurt, and that paired with his drunkeness makes him look like a sad little boy.

"But I can help. I wanna help," he says.

"I know you do Ralph, but you're drunk, nearly hungover. You need to take care of yourself, okay?" He opens his mouth to say something but then is overcome by a sick expression. He turns away and starts throwing up in the bushes. Once he's done, he stands up and starts nodding.

"Yea, maybe that's a good idea." He salutes me and stumbles off, whistling the Spongebob theme song. Under different circumstances, I might've laughed. Instead, I turn my attention to Simon. I bend down and start plucking splinters and bits of cloth from his wounds, then remove the shredded remains of his shirt. Not in a perverted way, God no, I just need the shirt to wash his wounds. It takes a while, there's so many of them, but eventually the cuts are clean and I've washed off all his blood. But it's not right. The gashes are everywhere, his skin is black and blue, his beautiful eyes are swollen, and he's still unconscious. He looks so broken. I lean over him, fighting back tears, and kiss him on the forehead.

**Some things can't be treated  
>(There's blood)<br>So don't make me, don't make me be myself around you**

"Please wake up Simon."

**There's blood!**

* * *

><p><strong>So how was that? Dramatic huh? Okay guys, so the last two chapters you guys have been really outdoing yourselves, giving me seven and eight reviews. Do you think you could do that agai? Cuz I'm really trying to beat The Fate of the Boys, which got 60 reviews in 16 chapters. This is chapter 16, and I've only got 53 for this. So please review, please check out my poll, and I really suggest you listen to "Blood on My Hands." It's a great song.<strong>


	17. Brotherly Love

**Hey hey hey! Guess who's updating fast! That's right MEEEEEE! This is my first week off school and I put it to good use, writing this nice little chapter for you! I was gonna put a song in here too, but I can't decide on one at the moment, so I'll edit the chapter later and add one in once I pick one. Yup, I'm lazy, but do you want it fast or do you want it with a song? That's right. Now, I have just a few notes to my lovely anonymous reviewers.**

**Marcilynn: I could be petty and chew you out, or be immature and say something along the lines of "Well maybe they're in the Bermuda Triangle! Planes go down there willy nilly!" But I am not petty, most of the time I'm not immature, and you make a fine point. It was kind of stupid for there to be another crashed plane, crates full of beer, and for them all to get drunk. To be honest, I wrote the first draft of that chapter before I wrote the second chapter, back when I was young, naive, and well, a terrible writer. I'd like to think I'm a little better now. Anyway, for some reason I always wanted the characters to get drunk in at least one story, so I wrote out that chapter ahead of time so I wouldn't forget to have it in there. Then when I finally did post it, I was so busy with the graduation: dance, dinner, party, after party, pool party, and the graduation ceremony itself, I didn't have time to do much more than a little editting and repair, but not enough to take that out and patch it over. So I apologize dearly for its awfulness, and hope that you won't give up on this story because of it.**

**A random person again: Well, I guess it was a little mean, but she was just as heartbroken as he was. She was allowing herself to be beaten senseless at random and sexually harassed by Roger to protect him, and he saw them together and assumed she was cheating. She felt like he didn't trust her. Plus, she's thirteen and he accused her of being a slut with AIDS. I don't know about you, but I'd certainly be pretty ticked. I do appreciate your argument for Simon though, I guess it's possible I took it a little far.**

**Well, I spent a little more effort on this chapter, and I really hope you guys like it better. So, enjoy peeps!**

The next morning, the sun peeking between the trees beats down hot and bright enough to stir me from a deep, dark sleep. I'm sore all over and every movement makes me ache more, but this is a feeling I'm all too used to. _What happened last night? _I look down and see a black choir cloak draped over my legs and a choir jacket wrapped around my shoulders. My arms are black and blue, as is my stomach, and there's a deep purple imprint of a large hand on each of my forearms. I check the tag of the jacket and cloak and suddenly it makes sense. The bruises are from when Roger beat me, and the jacket and cloak are his sorry attempt at an apology. I shrug them off and sit on them. Then I see Simon and the rest comes back to me as well. He looks better than last night, a little more color in his face, his chest rising and falling more steadily. I relax instantly; he made it through the night, he'll be okay.

Quietly, I crawl over to the stream and search my reflection for signs of bruising that I'll need to take care of. My stomach drops at the sight of my own face. The gauntness, the sickliness, the sunken eyes. Every bit of life has been sucked from it and I look more like walking dead than a 13 year old girl. The only color in my face is the bruises I now know that I can't hope to hide. It's disgusting. I was always average weight, even a little on the pudgier side at times. When I was born, the doctor said at least six of my nine pounds were in my cheeks. I don't look like myself anymore, but more like a girl with an eating disorder. I might've cried if I hadn't heard Simon stirring behind me.

"What am I doing here?" He asks softly. Then he groans. "What happened last night?" I can't help but beam.

"You're awake!" I exclaim. "How do you feel?"

"I'll live. Why am I here? Better yet, why are you? And what genius decided to give me a blanket, it's ninety degrees!" Roger had been kind enough to cover Simon in a cloak last night. He pulls it off and looks around. "Is that mine too?" He asks, pointing to the jacket at the base of the tree where I'd been sitting. I shake my head.

"No. Roger's." His face darkens.

"That's right, your little boyfriend." He starts sitting up, but I run over and push him back down.

"You have to rest. You nearly died last night, we can't leave anything to risk!" I exclaim. I then start trying to make him more comfortable, putting the cloak under his head to act as a pillow and making sure all his cuts were still clean.

"Why do you care?"

"How can you even ask that?" I snap without thinking. "Sorry." He doesn't respond, just lets me dab each wound with the ragged remains of his shirt. Then, suddenly, he reaches out and grabs my hand, looking pointedly at the bruises on my forearm.

"Someone hit you again," he says softly. I should deny it. For everyone's safety, I _need _to deny it, but I can't. I can't lie anymore, not to him. A tear rolls down my cheek and I nod. He tucks my hair behind my ear, revealing my new shiner. "Anywhere else?" One by one, I show him my other bruises, even the ones on my collarbone and on my ribs. He sits in stony silence until I'm done. "Who did this?" I just shake my head. "Erin, it's not going to get any better if you don't tell me."

"I can't, I can't. It will only make it worse." I begin to cry.

"Please tell me," he pleads. "I swear, I won't let anything happen to you. Who's the one hurting you?" I bury my head in my hands.

"Roger," I whisper. Simon looks confused, so I tell him the story. All of it. From Willie, to the first time he dragged me to the woods, to Percival kicking him in the nuts, to the day Simon saw me with him. When I'm done, he holds out his arms.

"Come here." I hug him and he wraps his arms tightly around me. He rolls over on his side and tucks my head under his chin. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. You didn't know."

"But I let it happen. I didn't protect you well enough. I swear, I won't let him hurt you again," he says. I don't respond to this.

"Shh. You need to rest okay?" He smiles a bit and closes his eyes. He's asleep, snoring softly, in seconds. I grin and nestle in closer to him, falling asleep soon enough as well.

* * *

><p>Simon's sleep is anything but restful. Suddenly, I know why he has to sleep in a shelter by himself all the time. In addition to his fainting issues, he's got some pretty serious night terrors.<p>

"No, no, please!" He whimpers, tossing and turning, his shoulder shaking. "Don't, stop!" With each yell he gets louder, and his shaking gets worse. Soon enough, he's not even speaking, just screamin. He stops shaking and starts clawing at his arms, face, neck, anywhere he can reach.

"Simon, wake up!" I yell over his cries of terror. "It's just a dream sweetie, you're okay." He doesn't hear me, no surprise. "Wake up!" I yell louder. Then I try shaking him awake, but it has no effect. I give up and grab his wrists in one hand. "Please forgive me for this," I whisper. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and slap him across the face as hard as I can. His eyes snap open and he bolts up, panting heavily.

"What happened? Why does my face hurt?" I hug him.

"You were having a bad dream," I say softly.

"A dream? So it wasn't real?" Simon asks.

"No, it was all in your head. You're safe Simon." He's still shaking hard. I rub circles on his back in an attempt to calm him down.

"It seemed so real," he whispers. "They always do. But this one was worse. It was like I was possessed, I couldn't stop it, couldn't stop myself. I did all these terrible things...to you, to Danny and Ralph, to the hunters and the littluns. I made it last, I had to make you all suffer until you just died. And all the while my brother was there, egging me on and laughing at what I was doing, and I killed him too. And we both laughed while I did it. It was so real. How could I do that? How could I do those awful things I did to you, how could I?" His eyes are wide from the fear of himself.

"You didn't do anything to me Simon. The hunters, the boys, your brother, they're all fine. It was a dream, just a horrible, horrible dream." He nods slowly.

"Only a dream," he agrees softly.

A few minutes later, Simon's calmed down enough for us to head back to camp. He isn't upset and he's doing better than before, but he has to lean on me as he walks and we have to stop a lot. Still, things could be a lot worse. He's alive, he's safe. We talk a lot about pretty much nothing, but I'm unfocused. Despite my every effort not to, I keep thinking of what Roger said. Is that stupid? Yea, that's stupid.

"Erin?" Simon snaps me out of my thoughts. "You okay?" Well the last thing I'm going to do is tell him I'm doubting him because of something Roger said, so I just nod.

"Yea, sorry. I'm just a little tired, it's been a long night," I say. He smiles faintly.

"You've got that right," he agrees. Suddenly, he stops and turns me to face him.

"What're you-" He cuts me off by gently pressing his lips to mine. I'm caught off guard, but I soon regain my composure and kiss him back. It's a relief, after all that's been going on, and after always being forced to kiss Roger. Those rough, often painful moments, this is an incredible escape from them. Simon's sweet and gentle, it's unrushed, and being in his arms reminds me that we're both okay, that we'll take care of each other, that we're safe. Then we both pull back, slightly out of breath, but he continues holding me close. "Well that was nice," I whisper. He grins.

"Yes, quite."

"We should do it again some time." He laughs. "I think I might like it even better when you start it." Simon smiles wider.

"I'll keep that in mind." I lean my head against his chest and he rests his head on top of mine. We just stand there, not needing to talk or think, nowhere to be and nothing to do but be there with each other. It takes me away from the island and the pain and suffering it's brought, to a place that's safe and quiet and uninterrupted, a place where I can hid him away from all the dangers that now threaten him. "Thank you," he whispers. I look up at him.

"For what?"

"For saving me." Something about his tone makes me blush.

"I really didn't do anything, cleaned you up a bit and stayed with you, that's all." He shakes his head.

"I heard you. I was still conscious when you screamed. You stopped them from attacking me."

"Oh," is my only reply. Then he smiles goofily.

"You sound like a chihuahua when you scream." I scowl, fighting back a grin.

"Shut up." He just laughs and starts walking again, still leaning on me. When we get back, we let ourselves be fretted over briefly by Danny and then chewed out by Ralph, but we don't argue because we know we deserve it. Then, by the time they're both out of breath and the sun goes down, we all agree it's in everyone's best interest for us to get some sleep.

* * *

><p>"Shhh, quiet or they'll wake up!" I freeze when I hear a voice outside the shelters. "Are you guys ready?" There's a pause and then, "Okay, get 'em then!" There's a sudden clamor followed by yelling as the hunters charge at the shelters. I hear Simon, Ralph, and Danny yelling while I sit dead silent in the corner of a shelter some of the hunters one stayed in, praying they won't come in.<p>

"Get the knife, get the knife!" One boy yells.

"And the glasses!" Another adds. I see a dark figure stop in front of my shelter, recognizable in the dark only by his cold blue eyes. Jack smiles.

"Just what I was look for," he says, coming in and pulling me up by the arm. "You're coming with me doll face." He starts dragging me out of the shelter.

"Not in this lifetime!" I exclaim, trying desperately to pull my arm away. He just tightens his grip. I resort to the ever reliable kicking and screaming method. Jack rolls his eyes.

"Enough of this." He picks me up roughly and carries me over his shoulder. I start pounding on his back, but it's useless; I've never packed a powerful punch.

"Put me down, put me down!" I shriek. He just laughs.

"Let's go guys!" The hunters all take off down the beach, Ralph yelling after them.

"You can't do this!" This comes from Simon. Jack turns to face him, smirking.

"Oh, I think I can," he says, half-waving. "See ya later, little brother." My eyes widen involuntarily. _Little brother?_

**Dun dun DUN! Drama! Action! Mystery! Another genre! Haha. So what'd you guys think, did it satisfy you all, or did you expect a little more from it? Tell me all in a review!**


	18. I Never Told You What I Do For A Living

y guess is, the boys had been planning to take me for a while, but they never really figured out what to do with me. They seemed to have had an idea when they surrounded me a few days ago, but they seem to have lost their courage. In the end, they used vines to tie me to a boulder and told Roger to guard me. Lovely. Now I sit in that very spot the next morning, already with a raging butt-ache, trying to ignore him as best as possible, but it's hard due to his general Rogerness. It's a trait that simply demands attention.

"You're thinking about it aren't you?" He asks suddenly. I look up, slightly startled. He hasn't spoken a word this whole time, simply sat there and studied me with those dark, knowing eyes.

**Stay out of the light  
>Or the photographs I gave you<br>You can say a prayer if you need to  
>Or just get in line and I'll grieve you<strong>

**Can I meet you alone  
>Another night and I'll see you<br>Another night and I'll be you  
>Some other way to continue<br>To hide my face**

"What do you mean?" I ask quietly. He just smiles that creepy smile.

"That little brother comment Jack made to Simon. You're wondering if it's true." I don't even question how he knows; I know I'm easy to read.

"Is it?" I ask, even softer in tone. His smile becomes more like a smirk.

"Yup. Half brothers and Irish twins."

"How-" I start to ask, but he finishes for me.

"-can they be both? Easy, Mrs. Monroe's a slut. A month after Jack was born, she cheated on Mr. Merridew with his best friend, Daniel Monroe, and got knocked up. She came clean, he divorced her, she married Mr. Monroe, and a few months later, along came little baby homewrecker. It's why Jack hates him, he blames him for his dad and their mom getting a divorce," Roger replies as if this is just your everyday family spat. Then his grin widens. "He didn't tell you any of this?" I sink lower and shift uncomfortably.

"He told me he had an older half brother," I mutter.

"Figures," Roger snorts. "That pussy would keep secrets. You know, I wouldn't lie about my family." I take this opportunity to change the subject.

"Well then, what's your family like?" I ask sarcastically.

"Stupid. They know what I'm like, but they ignore it. My parents won't let me meet with guidance counselors or anyone who could figure it out, I beat the shit out of my brother worse than I ever did to you, but that dumbass never ratted. Bunch of ignorant bastards, my family." One thing sparks my interest.

****Another knife in my hands  
>A stain that never comes off the sheets<br>Clean me off, I'm so dirty babe  
>The kind of dirty where the water never cleans off the clothes<br>I keep a book of the names and those  
>Only go so far till you bury them<br>So deep and down we go****

****Touched by angels though  
>I fall out of grace<br>I did it all so maybe  
>I'd live this every day<strong>**

"You have a brother?" I ask. For some reason, I can't imagine him having siblings- at least, siblings that survived this long. He nods.

"A twin, Miles. That kid's a freaking goody two shoes, it's not even funny how much ass he kisses. He doesn't even look like me, poor fugly dimwit, except the eyes and our retarded canine teeth," he says in annoyance.

"I actually kind of like your teeth," I say without thinking. The corners of his mouth jerk up bemusedly and he raises an eyebrow.

"I look like fucking Edward Cullen, but whatever."

"Nah, the vampires in that movie didn't have fangs, it pissed me off." He snorts, but I continue. "Well, anyway, I think they suit you." He just shakes his head.

"We'll see what you think when it's your skin they're shredding." I shudder slighlty, but try to hide my discomfort.

"Like you'd ever get the access," I say noncommittedly. He just smiles at me like I'm a silly little girl.

"Why do you think we took you?" I know why, but I cling to my last hope for an alternative.

"To admire me from afar?" He gets a good laugh out of this.

"Yea right. Think harder sweetheart. We're a bunch of teenage boys, you're a teenage girl, who was nearing hotness a few months ago. We'll get a little food in you, then maybe you'll be almost hot again. Then you'll be good," he says. My heart pounds harder.

********Another knife in my hands  
>A stain that never comes off the sheets<br>Clean me off, I'm so dirty babe  
>It ain't the money and it sure as hell ain't just for the fame<br>It's for the lives I claim and lose  
>Only go so far till you bury them<br>So deep and down we go********

********And down we go  
>And down we go<br>And down we go  
>And we all fall down<br>Ah, ah  
>All fall down<strong>******

"Good for what?" He smiles even more evilly, the light from the sun flashing off his too-sharp teeth making it even more sinister.

"You could say, entertainment." I shudder even more noticeably. "Aw, don't worry about it too much. Jack said I can be first." Then he looks at the fear on my face, laughs, and walks away. It's everything I can do not to cry.

* * *

><p>Not even an hour later, I'm visited by another hunter I want to kick in the nuts: Jack. He just comes strutting up like a fucking sex god, and that's how I know I'm in deep shit.<p>

"Oh, fuck me," I mutter, not thinking he'll hear. He smirks.

"Wow, I didn't think it'd be that easy," he replies, sitting down in front of me. I blush a shade to give his hair a run for its money and his smirk becomes more pronounced. "Roger says you bite." I shrug and stare at my feet. "You _are_ allowed to talk you know." I shrug again. "C'mon, give me a little more reaction than that. How does Erin feel about the world. Pretend I'm Blondie, you tak to him." I shake my head.

**And we'll all dance alone to the tune of your death  
>We'll love again, we'll laugh again<br>And it's better off this way**

**And never again, and never again  
>They gave us two shots to the back of the head<br>And we're all dead now**

"You're _nothing _like Ralph," I say with quiet hostility.

"See? We've got a dialogue going, is that so horrible?" I nod. "Okay then. Well, say I was Ralph." I fight the urge to say, 'okay, you were Ralph.' "What would you say to him in this situation?"

"I'd say that just because you're fucking shmexy doesn't mean you're not a douchenozzle or that I'll go down without a fight," I reply a little more confidently. He looks pleased by my response.

"Ouch. That really cut me deep. But I'd expect nothing less," he says. "Roger's told me all about his experiences with you. That's why he gets first dibs. He did all that leg work, something should come of it. Anyway, I know all about you. I might even know more than your precious Simon."

"Prove it," I say nervously.

**I tried one more night, one more night  
>Well I'm laughin', cryin', laughin'<br>I tried, well I tried, well I tried  
>Cause I tried but I lied I tried<br>I tried I tried I tried I**

**Oh we'll love again and we'll laugh again  
>We'll cry again and we'll dance again<br>And it's better off this way  
>So much better off this way<br>I can't clean the blood off the sheets in my bed**

"All right, I will. You're not really all that shy, you're just anti-social. You only stutter when you're scared, and boy do we scare the shit out of you. You're not all sugar and spice like you let on. No, you like punk rock, heavy metal. You have to put in an effort not to insult people, and you're probably as egotistical as me. Also, you're not particularly fond of Roger, maybe not even Simon, you just love the idea of being loved. You'd love to cause trouble if those with authority didn't scare you so much, you enjoyed drinking just as much as we did, you have a generally pessimistic outlook on people outside your own group of friends, and you like hitting Roger just as much as he likes hitting you. Did I miss anything?" I don't answer. "I didn't think so. You know, Roger made a pretty good teacher, but there's one theory I'd like to test." I shrink back, frightened by his tone.

"W-w-what's that?" I stammer. He smiles in a way that makes me want to disappear.

"How much of a fight can you put up when you're tied up?" Then he leans in and kisses me forcefully. I'm about to try and pull back, when I get a brilliant plan and kiss him right back. He seems a little surprised, but keeps going. And going. For a really long time. Still going. Now I kind of want to check the watch I'm not wearing. Finally, he pulls back, looking quite happy with himself. "I take it you like me more than Roger." I smile sweetly and nod, trying my best not to gag.

He starts leaning back in and I watch carefully. Almost there...just a little bit closer...now! I jerk my head up and chomp down on his nose. He cries out loudly and tries to pull back, but I just bite harder, ignoring my shallow breathing and pounding skull- symptoms I now know well. My sickliness can wait, I have a point to make! Finally, after a long coninuous string of profanity, Jack tugs his nose back. I'd be made, but it's bleeding, which makes me a little more satisfied. He looks at me in disgust. "You crazy bitch!" He exclaims. "You bit nose!" Among the boys who had gathered around us, Roger mutters something that sounds like "Told ya."

"Damn right! It's what you get you creepy, horndog pervert!" I yell. "Fuck off bitch!" He scowls and storms away, his faithful lapdog following. The others remain staring at me in shock. I sigh, no longer fighting against my drained feeling. "What- what are you all...all, uh...ah, fuck it." I slump back, knowing what's about to come. My breathing slows, my head begins to spin, and the whole world goes to darkness as exhaustion and starvation lead me to pass out.

**Never again, and never again,  
>They gave us two shots to the back of the head<br>And we're all dead now**

* * *

><p><strong>hey! I'm crunched for time, so I"mma squeeze this all in here. THanks for reviews, there's nothing like a nice anonymous reviewer to get my ass in action, blah blah blah. Yaaay! I updated fast! Did ya like it? DId ya? The song was "I Never Told You What I Do For a Living" by My Chemical Romance. It's a great song, check it out! Please review and please answer to my poll! Peace!<strong>


	19. Viva La Gloria

**Sniff sniff. I'm feeling melancholy today. I'm feeling very melancholy today. I'm feeling so fucking melancholy it isn't even funny! I blame this chapter. I was in a great mood before I wrote it. Not so much anymore. I feel like it's well written and all, but- you know what, you guys can figure it out on your own**

**Song: Viva La Gloria (little girl) by Green Day**

I just want to be done, with all of it. Is it even worth it to go home anymore? I miss my friends, but could I act the same when I come back? I've changed too much since getting here. I joke, but don't laugh; I smile, but I don't mean it. I'd hate to be all 'Oh my God it's the end of the world' teenagers, but I feel like these people are literally ruining my life. And Roger's only re-enforcing a suspicion I've had all my life. I'm scared all the time, Jack's brainwashed the littluns to be like him, and I know it's only a matter of time until _that _happens.

**Little girl, little girl  
>Why are you crying?<br>Inside your restless heart  
>Your sould is dying<strong>

"Why is this happening?" I whisper to myself. I've always been a good girl, I listened to my parents most of the time, I only lied when I felt it was absolutely necessary, I did girl scouts, I tried to get good grades! Sure, I royally screwed up like every other girl in the world, but I didn't do anything worth this fate! I'm only thirteen, the oldest of them is only fifteen, we're all to young for this. I doubt half of them have even gone through puberty yet! But what can I do? I'm weak, I've never been able to fight. Sure, maybe Ralph, Simon, and Piggy could swoop in and help me, but only Ralph is healthy enough to fight, and he doesn't stand a chance against all the hunters. I can only see two legitimate hopes for me: it'll happen and I _won't _get pregnant, or I'll die one way or another. Pessimistic, I know, but is that really so much worse? I'd already feel like enough of a slut coming off the island with a boyfriend- I'm just out of seventh grade for Pete's sake!- let alone after being... being... I can't even say it.

"We need you to go take care of the littluns," Maurice says, coming and untying me. I sit still and allow him to finish untying the vines, then obediently follow him to the cave the littluns stay in. The boys all know better than to send anyone but Maurice to get me, since he's the only one I'll put up with. Of all the hunters, he's the most respectful to me; he actually seems to remember that I'm a human being and not something put here for their amusement. I listen to Maurice, but with anyone else, I bite, I kick, I scream and punch, and I occasionally yell the "Our Father" backwards in Latin. Don't look at me funny, they taught us the Latin translation at school.

I'm reluctant to watch the littluns. As with the hunters, most of them no longer see me as the older sister they once treated me like. Most are just mildly bratty, but Johnny has been completely taken under Jack's wing. They take him hunting, they taught him to use the hunting knife, Jack even helped him make his own spear. He's just as awful as the hunters. Only Percival remains the sweetheart he was before.

**Little one, little one  
>Your soul is purging<br>Of love and razor blades  
>Your blood is surging<strong>

"What's _she _doing here?" Johnny asks Maurice obnoxiously.

"She's here to play with you guys, like she always did," Maurice says, ruffling his hair.

"Dude, don't touch the hair. Jack says I can kick your ass for stuff like that."

"Johnny!" I scold. "You can't swear, okay hun?"

"Shut your face. Jack says what you say doesn't count for anything." Maurice makes a strained face and rubs his temple.

"I'm going to go okay? I'll talk to Jack about this later," he replies.

"Thanks." He smiles and walks out, leaving me with the little demons.

"Don't talk to Erin like that Johnny!" Percival exclaims.

"You shut your face too, Jack says you're on probation. Do you know what probation means? It means if you don't listen to me Roger's gonna beat the crap out of you."

"Johnny, play nice or play by yourself," I warn. He sticks his tongue out at me, but doesn't make anymore comments to Percival or me. That doesn't mean he's stopped being a little prick though.

**Runaway  
>From the river to the street<br>And find yourself with your face in the gutter  
>You're a stray for the salvation army<br>There is no place like home  
>When you got no place to go<strong>

"Owwie!" Jimmy screams. "I'm getting Jack!" He yells in Johnny's face.

"Fine! Jack likes me better anyway!" The two bicker back and forth. Sighing, I tell Percival I'll be right back and go to break it up.

"Guys, what's the problem?" I ask.

"Johnny bit me!"

"Johnny!" I yell. "Don't bite. Would you like it if he bit you?" He shakes his head.

"But Jack said Roger would punish him if he did. That's Roger's job you know. That, and killing anyone who steps out of line. They told me all about it. They said I can help sometimes if I want." I try to hide my shuddering.

"Well, you can't bite, or hit, or do anything of that sort when I'm here, okay?" He nods. "Good, now say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry Jimmy," he says reluctantly. I give him a suspicious look; he never behaves this well for me anymore. But there's nothing I can do, so I turn and go back to Percival, who's quietly drawing in the dust. Poor thing, none of them want to play with him anymore, and Willie was his closest friend here. I bend over to seethe picture.

"What are you drawing sweetie?" I ask. He looks up and glares at something behind me. Before I can see what he's looking at, I feel something smack my ass. I turn around and see Johnny smiling wickedly. "Oh my god Johnny! Why would you do that?" I demand. He just shrugs.

"That's what the big boys do. I seen 'em." I redden slightly. He's right, the older boys have done that before, but every time I tried to stop them or yelled at them, I'd get hit by whoever it was. Then later, Roger would find me and punish me. Johnny was also right about that being his job. They all have them, along with rankings in the group. Roger's second in command. That's not the only thing. The boys have heard me muttering in my sleep, and they took advantage of the nightmares I've had. The one I had before, about the hunters taking over and punishing Simon and things like that, has been happening often, and they know almost every detail of it now. Apparently they thought I had some good ideas, because they mimicked a lot of things in it. They made up meanings for the letters, they enhanced their paint, all just to scare me. I had to watch them do it. Roger laughed when they carved the letters into his arms- by the way, SPE is now Second in command, in charge of Punishment and Execution- Jack chewed his lip to keep from crying out, and Maurice broke down and cried when the cut the letters TPT in his wrists (Third in command, in charge of Prisoners and Training.) Also, the bloody handprints on Roger's upper arms? They're mine. I've zoned out at this point, and Johnny wandered off to go torment the other boys.

**Little girl, little girl  
>Your life is calling<br>The charlatans and saints  
>Of your abandon<strong>

"Erin?" Percival asks softly. "Are you okay?" I smile sadly and and ruffle up his hair.

"Yea Perce, I'm fine." He hugs my legs.

"I'm sorry I didn't take care of you all good like I said," he replies sadly. I kneel down and hug him.

"Aw, Percy, don't you worry about it. You take great care of me. In fact, you're my favorite part of being here." He beams.

"Really?"I grin back.

"Really. Now, why don't you show me your picture?" I sit cross-legged and Percival seats himself in my lap, pointing out all the details in his picture. All's going well for a few minutes, when suddenly, the littluns look up at the cage entrance and go silent. I look up and see Roger storming in, looking completely pissed off. At the sight of him, my fresh bruises throb slightly, his presence reminding me off how much more often he's been hitting me. I look down fearfully and try to ignore him. That's not an option though, because he stops right in front of me, standing right in the middle of the drawing Percival was so excited about. His eyes start watering. "Shh, shh, Perce, don't worry. I'll help you draw it again later okay?" He nods sadly, looking up at Roger with wide-eyed fear.

"You're coming with me." He grabs my arm and pulls me up, giving Percival barely enough time to jump out of my lap. I don't put up much of a fight when he drags me out. Since they took me, I've quickly resigned myself to the fact that I can't fight whatever these boys plan for me. He pulls me out to the cliff, where all the hunters are currently standing. Once I look down, I can see why. Ralph, Piggy, Samneric and Simon are down there, looking up at us angrily. If I'm guessing correctly, it looks like they are trying and failing to be intimidating. When Simon sees me, his anger changes into desperation.

**Little one, little one  
>The sky is falling<br>Your lifeboat of deception  
>Is now sailing<strong>

"Erin!" He yells.

"Simon!" I yell back. Roger tugs my head back by my hair,

"Shut up!" He hisses in my ear. I start trembling slightly, but try to hide it. Roger chuckles creepily. Meanwhile, Jack smirks down at my friends.

"Is this what you said you wanted?" Simon nods.

"And Piggy's glasses!" Ralph adds. "You had no right to take them! If you wanted to have a fire, all you had to do was ask!"

"I don't have to ask!" Jack snaps. "You said you want her, but you never said you wanted her alive," he laughs. "Roger, you know what to do." Roger pulls out his hunting knife and presses it against my throat.

"No!" Simon cries. Jack laughs again.

"Yea, I didn't think you'd like that baby brother. Maybe there's a better alternative. What do you think boys? Shall we start our plans a little early?"

"No!" I scream. "No, no, please, no," I plead. The boys all laugh at me and I begin to cry a bit. I see Ralph whisper something to Piggy, and judging by what happens next, it was probably something along the lines of 'distract them.'

**In the wake all the way  
>No rhyme or reason<br>Your bloodshot eyes  
>Will show your heart of treason<strong>

"Which is better- to run around like a bunch of painted indians like you are, or to be sensible like Ralph is? Which is better- to have laws and agree, or to hunt and kill?" The boys don't appear to be paying much attention to him. Instead they hoot, holler, jeer and tease him. Some boys even hiss. But Piggy- aw, damn, now they've got me saying it!- Danny, continues, completely unfazed by them. Good on ya Danster. "Which is better- civilization and rules, or rebellion and savagery? Which would you rather: to go home, or to stay trapped on this hell-hole forever?" At this point, Danny's on a roll, and he keeps rattling off more right versus wrong comparisons. Most boys have zoned out at this point, deciding they're best option is to wait until he stops and then gang up on him, but Roger and Jack keep exchanging angry looks. Then Roger passes me off to Jack, who looks confused, but allows Roger to do whatever he's up to. The next thing I know, Roger's leaning on a lever beneath a boulder, and the rock goes rolling down the slope.

You know that moment when something terrible happens and everything seems like it's slowed down, and no one can move fast enough to stop it? That was this moment. Only one thing happened too fast to be true. The rock came down on Danny, and both fell down to the cliffs below.

We all stare dumbstruck at his poor body, strewn across the rocks with brains and blood spilling out of a crack in his skull. No one can speak, no one can make a sound, no one can do anything but stare and try to understand how he could be standing in front of us, rambling on, one moment, and then just gone the next. Then the silence is broken by an earsplitting scream. Mine.

"Danny!" I shriek, tears streaming down my face, faster and hotter than they've ever been before. I cry helplessly, continuing to switch in between whimpering his name or the word 'no.' The boys all change their stares from Danny's limp remains to my trembling, pathetic self. For once, I don't go silent under the attention. Roger quickly draws the attention back to himself with a whoop of triumph, one that Jack echoes, and then all the other boys.

"I'm chief!" Jack yells. "Grab them!" The boys follow the direction he was pointing in and start dragging the twins, kicking and screaming, up the cliff. He laughs and starts chucking stones at the other boys' heads. Roger then grabs my arm and starts pulling me roughly towards the woods.

**Little girl, little girl  
>You dirty liar<br>You're just a junkie  
>Preaching to the choir<strong>

"W-w-where a-are we g-going?" I whimper. He sneers at me and says the two simple words I've been dreading.

"It's time."

* * *

><p>As soon as we get deep enough into the jungle, Roger slams me back into a tree and begins kissing me roughly. Tears continue to spill down my face, but I don't react much at all. I know by now that it'll only make things worse. Roger's mouth shakes and his stomach puffs in and out rapidly; he's laughing. Maybe in triumph, maybe at my fear, maybe he's still celebrating his crime. Whatever it is, the action strikes down any hope for his humanity. He begins biting my lower lip, trying to get me to open my mouth, but I keep it sealed shut. I feel him growling and then he digs his fingers into the cuts he made to make the handprints. I gasp from the pain and he takes his opportunity. My only response is to whimper. He pulls away for a moment, still chuckling.<p>

**Runaway  
>From the river to the street<br>And find yourself with your face in the gutter  
>You're a stray for the salvation army<br>There is no place like home  
>When you got no place to go<strong>

"Don't worry sweetheart. It's gonna be fun." I begin to hyperventilate, to panic. This is happening. It's happening. It can't be happening. But it is. I slam my head forward into his and take off running while he's distracted. He just laughs again and tugs me back, my arm beginning to feel like it's being ripped out of it's socket. I cry out. "Don't you know that's cause for punishment yet Shitbrains?" My whole body begins to shake as I cry silently. He takes out his hunting knife and spins the tip on my temple, not quite cutting my skin, but allowing the knife to get deeper and deeper. It never breaks the skin though. After a few seconds, he moves it down and draws the blade swiftly across my cheek, ripping it open. Blood comes spilling out, burning too hot for comfort. _Drip, drip, drip. _Drop by drop, I hear it hitting the ground, feel it spilling down on my feet, trailing down my neck. His expression becomes distanced and he smiles absentmindedly. Then he leans forward and- I kid you not- licks off some of the blood. I let out a choked sob and he slaps me. "_Shut up." _He hisses.

After that I don't make a sound other than the occasional whimper. I don't fight. I just stand there and give in to my fate. I just wish he'd go faster! Part of the torture he's concocted for me is making my fear last as long as possible. So I try to distract myself, thinking about my favorite songs, movies, books, anything to take my mind off what's about to happen. But I can't, I just can't, because it is happening, and I've seen it coming for over a week now. I know it when he tears my now ratty shrug off my shoulders and throws it aside. I can feel his hands moving up, up, up reaching higher under my shirt. Oh God, I know what's coming next, I know what he's doing, I know-

My thoughts are interrupted by a groan and a _thwack! _as something slams into Roger's back and causes him to stumble past me. Behind him, looking a strange mix of terror and ferocity, is Ralph with a large branch in his hands which he's holding like a baseball bat. Roger looks up at him with a gruesome smile.

**Traces of blood  
><strong>**Always follow you home  
>Like the mascara tears<br>From your getaway  
>(Gloria!)<br>You're walking with blisters  
>And running with shears<br>So unholy  
>Sister of grace<strong>

"Come at me bro," he says, waving Ralph forward. Ralph rushes at him, which Roger didn't seem to expect. Ralph's fist makes contact with Roger's face before he can react and Roger goes stumbling back, wiping blood from his lip. Then he rushes at Ralph, but Ralph thinks fast and swings the branch at his head. Roger falls to the ground with his eyes shut. Ralph kicks him in the side suspiciously, then looks up at me.

"He's out. Are you okay?" I nod, but then I choke on a sob and shake my head instead. He quickly puts his arm around my shoulder and starts leading me away, rubbing my arm a bit comfortingly. There was a time not too long ago when I would've appreciated the gesture, maybe even taken the time to admire his abs. But not now. Any showing of skin by a guy my age has begun to freak me out. The littlest touch, those hunters have perverted. I know that Ralph would never hurt me, but there's still that nagging at the back of my mind, that worry. What if he loses it like the hunters did? I continue to tremble, but try to keep reminding myself that Ralph is my friend, that I'm safe now.

Ralph takes me all the way to Simon's meadow, where I learn they've been camping out to hide from the hunters. I'm a little disturbed by the pig's head on a stick in the middle of it, and even more so by Simon's insistance that it's the Lord of the Flies and it talks to him at times, but anything's better than being back at Castle Rock. The moment we get there, Simon runs up and I'm taken into the biggest bear hug I've had in month. There with him, I actually feel safe for once.

"Thank God you're okay," he sighs in relief. "You are okay right?" I smile weakly and nod. "I'm so glad to see you! Where did you find her, how'd you get her back?" I give Ralph a pleading look; the last thing I need right now is to worry Simon, or to think about that.

"She was passed out in the jungle a minute or two away from Castle Rock," Ralph lies. "I managed to wake her up and get her back here pretty quickly. It's a good thing none of the other boys found her first." Simon's still smiling.

"Good. That's good." He hugs me even tighter. I'm really glad to be out of there, to be safe with them, but I still have that awful feeling I had this morning. That feeling of wanting this to be over more than anything, wanting it so bad I'd give anything up for it to end. I can't help it, I break down crying. Both boys look at me in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything, I don't know! I'm in desperate need of a nap, the littluns are little demons, Johnny's a Jack in training, my face hurts, I'm hungry and I have an unexplainable craving for cupcakes but I can't have a cupcake because we're on an island and there's none to be had!" I ramble. I begin to cry even more. "I just want to go home." Simon holds me closer.

"It's okay," he says softly. "Everything's going to be okay." And I almost believe it, until I hear a voice behind Ralph.

"Actually, it isn't." We all look back and see Roger standing at the edge of the trees with a lump on his forhead, one helluva shiner growing on his eyes, and a knife in his hand. That little voice in my head goes off, screaming "_Now, now, here's your chance!" _but I try my best to ignore it. He advances toward Simon. "But you're not going to be there when things stop being okay for these two." Ralph steps toward him, but Roger swings around and points the knife at him. "Do you really want to fight the kid with the knife?" Ralph looks down shamefully at his feet, stepping away from him. Simon pushes me towards Ralph. "How cute, you're trying to protect your little girlfriend."

**Runaway  
>From the river to the street<br>And find yourself with your face in the gutter  
>You're a stray for the salvation army<br>There is no place like home**

"What's your problem Roger?" Simon asks. "What have I done to you that could ever earn this?"

"Everything!" Roger snaps. "Everything about you makes me want to kill you! Your voice, your face, your silence, fuck, your very existence makes me want to gut you like a fucking fish! When I threatened Erin with your life, I never imagined she'd actually put up with me, that's why I used you as a threat and not Piggy! I thought it was a chance to kill you! And then, then it got much worse, because then you had her! Well, you're not going to be in my way anymore, not after today. He takes another step towards Simon, holding his knife in the air. "Any last words Monroe?"

He doesn't wait for an answer before he swings down the knife, slicing through the air. But it's not his target that he hits. It's not Simon's stomach that his knife pierces. And it's not Simon who says:

"Here's some last words for ya. See you in hell dipshit."

**Erin: Hammsters has given me the job to do this little closing note thing  
>Simon: Where'd Hammsters go?<br>Erin: Confession  
>Ralph: What'd she do?<br>Erin: Here, she left me a note to read. "Dear Roger, I fucking hate you, go to hell."  
>Roger: What'd I do?<br>Erin: She says that writing that scene where you tried to you know what me was the most awful experience she's ever had and she feels all dirty and wrong for doing it.  
>Roger: Well, she didn't HAVE to write that scene!<br>Erin: She thought you'd say that. "I know someone's going to say I didn't have to write it, but it would seem really off balance if I didn't. I've been writing a lot of things that lead up to that, and you all knew that it was going to happen sometime, so I couldn't just decide 'you know what? No. They're all gonna hold hands and sing Kumbaya instead.' I had to do it, because it's what you would do on the island in this situation. It wouldn't be true to the story or to the characters if that part wasn't in there."  
>Roger: Well then!<br>Erin: Yup. So she wants me to also thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and a special thanks to Roger. From. LOTF. Obsesser. (sorry if I got your name wrong, I've got a terrible memory) for reviewing every chapter and for being very nice while giving very helpful constructive criticism. Most people just tell her "Good job! Update" and don't tell her how to improve, so she appreciated that. Okay. Now she'd like everyone to review, whether you have an account or not. If you are a human person and you read this chapter, review. Just do it. It'll take ten seconds out of your day. Also, respond to the poll. Or Roger will come for you  
>Roger: *evil laugh*<br>Erin: *cough cough* Creep! *cough cough***


	20. Did Mommy Teach You Interfering is Rude?

**Heey! What's up guys. Happy almost Fourth of July to all you Americans! And to the rest of you, erm, maseltov. On whatever. Anyone got anything to say to me? No? How about...HAPPY ANNIVERSERY! Not of a boyfriend, sillies, I'm not one of those sluts who's been dating since 6th grade, I'm fourteen for crying out loud! But as of today, Teenagers has been on this website for exactly one year! Yaaaaaay! *breaks out horns and party noisemakers and confetti and such* Sniff sniff, my baby's growing up. Yes. Teenagers is my baby. Got a problem? Didn't think so. Now enjoy the chapter, and wish it a happy birthday!  
>Oh, and here's another milestone for you! This is officially my longest story! And another, this story's now over 50,000 words! Yaaaaay! Okay. Now carry on with your <em>perusing.<em>**

Roger stumbles back in shock as blood starts to spill out from my mouth. He tugs the knife out of my stomach, but his hands are shaking and it slices a deep jagged cut cross my stomach. I shriek in pain and he winces. Losing my footing, I trip backwards and fall into Simon's arms.

"I- I- I didn't mean it!" Roger stammers. "Damn it, it wasn't supposed to be you!" I moan and sputter up some more blood. Roger looks from me to the knife frantically, then chucks the knife into the jungle and takes off running. Ralph runs after him in pursuit.

"Get back here you son of a bitch!" He yells. Simon's knees buckle and we both fall to the ground. I cry out again, mostly from the surprise that the pain is numbing, then look up at him sadly and see that he looks like he's going to be sick. He gulps.

"Oh God. That's- that's a lot of blood," he mutters. Then he holds his hand over his mouth. "I think I'm going to be sick. I'm sorry." He lets me go and runs off towards the nearest bush. This is followed by a sickening splattering sound, a sound that just keeps repeating over and over again. I start to cry softly. Looks like I'm going to die alone. I guess I deserve that. Fortunately, Ralph chooses this moment to come back.

"He's gone. I couldn't catch him," he sighs. He kneels down next to me. "How do you feel, where's Simon?" I glance over to where he's throwing up and then back at Ralph. "Great. How are you feeling?" I open my mouth to speak, but I can only cough up more blood. "Okay, okay. Relax Erin, all right? Take deep breaths, take it easy. Everything's going to be okay." I shake my head. "Don't think like that okay? Me and Simon are going to make sure you're safe, it'll all be fine." I shake my head harder.

"Don't like to me Ralph. I don't want to be lied to," I manage to whisper.

"No!" He snaps. "Here, let me clean that up. Wouldn't want it to get infected." He tears off the bottom of my camisole up to where it was beginning to embed itself into the woud. The blood then begins to flow more freely. "Shit!" He starts wiping blood away with the cloth and dabbing at the wound, but I know it won't do anything. "Hey, hey, what's that you've got in your hair?" He pulls a bobby pin out of my thick, matted hair and breaks it in half. "Can I use this?" I get an idea of what he's doing and shake my head even faster. 'Please, it's the only way. I can fix it!" He insists. I sigh and lay my head back. Ralph starst pulling at a loose thread in his shorts, unwinding it until it seems long enough. I groan as my head stops pounding and starts spinning instead. "Hang in there Erin, I'm almost done!" My breathing becomes more and more shallow by the second. "Just hang on a little longer and then you can rest." My eyesight becomes blurry and dark while Ralph tries to break the thread with his teeth. "I can fix it, I can fix it, I can-" My heart is slowing. My eyes are getting heavy. I can'r breathe. I know what comes next. Taking his hand and giving it a squeeze, I use the last of my energy for this.

"Goodbye Ralph."

* * *

><p>When I open my eyes again, I'm out of the woods and on a cloud. Yup. A freaking cloud. How cliche. Anyway, I"m on the cloud, the pain in my stomach, though still present, has been reduced to a dull ache, and get this- Danny's here too. His head's patched up all shiny and new, and he's smiling.<p>

"Danny!" I squeal, running up and hugging him. He laughs and hugs me.

"It's nice to see you too Erin." I release him and start pestering him with questions.

"What's going on If you're here, does that mean I'm dead?" I ask, trying to hide my hopefulness.

'That all depends," he replies. 'Do you feel anything where you were stabbed?" I nod. "Then congratulations. You're among the living dead."

"So, what, I'm a ghost?" I ask in confusion.

"Nope. _I'm _a ghost. You're a living person who's almost dead. Now that's where my being here comes in," he says. "You're almost dead, but not quite. That means your body's still fighting, but your mind and soul are up here with me. You with me so far?" I nod unsurely.

"I... think so." He sighs.

"Okay, let's try it this way. Go over to the edge and look down. I lie face down at the edge of the cloud and look down at the scene below. There's a freakishly thin group of kids in a clearing. The first one I see is a dark haired teen leaning over a clump of bushes, losing his lunch. Next is a blonde who appears to be having a mental breakdown. He seems to be switching off between pulling his hair out and giving the unconscious girl in front of him CPR. Just a few feet away from the clearing, pacing in the darkness is a brown haired boy, also trying to pull his hair out. He has a large black cloth in his hands, and he keeps looking from it to the scene before him indecisively. I bite my lip and look to Danny. He starts pointing to each of them.

"You see the one upchucking in the wildlife? That's Simon. He's hemophobic, if you couldn't tell. He'd be with you if it weren't for all the blood. Over there's Ralph. It might come as a surprise, but he worries about you as much as me and Simon do. He feels personally responsible every time something happens to one of the kids in his tribe. He stitched you up as best as he could, now he's trying to rescussitate you. Who knows? It might even work." I send a glare his way. Ralph's desperation is nothing to joke about. "Over there is Roger. Now, does he look sorry to you?" I shrug. "Well, he's not. Keep in mind, he's a certifiable psychopath most likely, and definitely a sadist. He can't be sorry. He can be worried though, and he is. He doesn't want you to die, just Simon. And last of all is you, dying in the hands of a first aid dunce. Erin, I know you like stories, so we're going to think in terms of the good guy/bad guy sort of thing. Who's the bad guy here?" I think about it, knowing that even though it'd normally be right, Roger's not the bad guy. Not completely.

It's time to come clean. I've never been heroic, or wanted to be heroic, and I'm not all that selfless. I was never the type to take a fall for someone else and definitely not a knife. Even as a child, I'd sit on the steps crying because I knew someday I would die, and I wasn't sure heaven existed. I'm still not sure it does. Anyway, death is my greatest fear, always has been, always will be. So dying for Simon is really in character for me is it? Nope. Because that wasn't the point. I wasn't rescuing him, I was saving myself. That was my suicide.

"Me," I say softly. "I'm the bad guy." He nods.

"You can still change it though. You're not dead yet, you can start breathing again anytime you want." I start shaking my head rapidly. "It's the right thing to do," he continues.

"No!" I snap. "This is my choice, my escape! You can't take that away from me!" He shakes his head sadly.

"Have you really sunk so low? Do you really want to end your life now when you're only thirteen?" Danny asks. My eyes begin to water.

"I don't know what else I can do," I whisper.

"You could let someone help you for once. You might've noticed that Ralph is more than capable of looking after you."

"He's got more important things to worry about." Danny rolls his eyes.

"Oh cut the crap. You and I both know you're not some plain Jane, Mary-Sue or whatever you FanFiction writers call it! So don't go fishing for compliments out of me. Do you think I wouldn't give anything to be able to go back? I would, but I was killed on impact and it wasn't an option for me. But it is for you! So quit your whining, be a good girl, and breath God damn it!" Well that doesn't leave much choice now does it?

I wake up with a jolt- literally. Ralph pushes down hard on my stomach and I gasp suddenly. He jumps back, surprised. I continue to breathe heavily, even more surprised that him that I woke up. Did that really just happen?

"You're alive?" Ralph says in disbelief.

"I'm alive," I say breathlessly. "Daniel Golding you cunning fuck of a gun." I then notice that blood is no longer gushing out of my stomach. "How'd you do that?"

"Oh, um, I sewed it up with your bobby pin. And, you probably won't believe this, but Roger cam back a bit ago with his old cloak to use as a bandage. I also had to do CPR, sorry, but for a bit I was sure you were a goner. Not sure what happened." I sit up and hug him tightly.

"Thank you," I say softly.

"Uh, you're welcome?" Ralph says, caught off guard. After I release him, he prattle on about how we're going to have to hide as soon as possible and other such things, but I doze off quickly, thinking about how much I owe a certain interfering fuck of a gun.

**Haaaappy birthday to- oh. You guys are done reading. This is awkward. We're out of cake...  
>Haha, hope you guys liked it, please review and tell me what you thought, and check out my poll while you still can! After all, this story is winding down to the last few chapters and the poll is about this story...so yea. Polls, reviews and mash potatoes my friends. Catch my drift? Good.<strong>


	21. Flirting With Sadists For Dummies!

**I'm back! I don't have a lot of time for a note though, so just enjoy the chapter!**

"Are you guys sure you want to do this?" Simon asks about a week later. Ralph helps me to my feet and we both look over at him.

"Of course we are," Ralph says, sounding shocked that he'd even ask that. "We need a way to defend ourselves don't we?" Simon looks uncomfortable.

"Well, yes, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable with Erin interacting with any of those creeps. King Creep, if she's right about it being Roger's night to guard. I don't think she's ready." I roll my eyes.

"I can stand can't I?" He quirks an eyebrow and looks me over.

"You're leaning," he corrects. "On Ralph."

"Leaning is a form of standing. And would it make you happier if I was leaning on you?" He shuffles his feet a bit and looks down abashedly.

"Maybe." I smile at his utter adorableness.

"Aw. You come to me then, or I'm sticking with Ralph. His arm is pillowy." Ralph looks down at me.

"I'd like to inform you that I am a toned, muscled teen god, not a pillow." I laugh.

"You keep telling yourself that bunnykins." Simon gags.

"Gross. Am I being replaced by a marshmallow man?" I laugh again, then double over in pain. Ralph grabs my shoulders and steadies me while Simon rushes to my side.

"I'm fine gusy," I cough. "Just laughed a bit too hard, that's all. No fainting, no vomit, no blood. All good." Neither one looks sure anymore.

"I really don't think this is a good idea," Simon repeats. "If we have to do this, can we at least wait until you're a little better?"

"No!" I snap. "This isn't something that can be put off, they're hunting us! I hear them in the woods everyday, I see you guys freeze up whenever they're close to our hideout, I can feel my stitches sting just at the thought of being caught by them. If we wait another day, you two could be dead. I'm not going to let that happen." When I finish my speech, I'm out of breath, but I do my best to hide it. Simon opens his mouth to protest, but I push them both away and try to keep my steps even and my wincing unnoticeable as I walk away. "I'm going, and you can't stop me." Both boys sigh and follow me out.

* * *

><p>I clench my fists to keep my hands from shaking as I walk up to the boy on guard duty. Even in the dark, even from far away, I have no doubts that it's him. In the few months I've known him, I've developed a sort of hyper-awareness of him toward him. Every detail, from the set of his shoulders and the way he leans forward and the way his muscles seem bunched in the back, to his height and the length of his hair has become as familiar to me as the way my sister's voice gets higher when she's excited and Julia never shuts up when she's mad and Fiona screams when she wants to get a point across. I recognize him as well as I'd recognize my best friends, know him better than Simon, but without the warmth and safety associated with those three. I swallow hard as the space between me and him is closed.<p>

"Roger?" I say softly. He jumps to his feet and spins to face me, brandishing a knife. It's all I can do not to skitter back into the forest. He takes a good look at me and lets out a deep breath.

"Oh, it's just you," he sighs. I quirk an eyebrow.

"So what, I'm not a threat?" He smirks bemusedly. "You know what, don't answer that." He chuckles.

"Good, you're learning Shitbrains!" he laughs, ignoring my glare. I cough. He clears his throat. Then awkward silence.

"So how's life?" I eventually ask.

"Not bad, you?"

"Can't complain. My tummy's healing nicely." Wow. Did I just feel it get ten times more awkward? "So... the weather's been nice..." He smiles crookedly at this.

"Really? The weather? Has it come to this?" I nod solemnly.

"Yes it has." He chuckles.

"Erin, I think we both know you didn't come all the way over here to discuss the climate. I think we've reached the point in our relationship that we can skip the pleasantries, don't you?" Well damn. What do I say now? 'Is it hot out here or is it just you?' Ha! Yea right. I can see Ralph in the woods behind Roger trying to signal me to keep going. "So why did you come out here?" I sigh and try to channel a slut from my grade, Nicole Corbin. Then I smile sweetly and step closer to him, lacing my fingers through his.

"To see you of course." You know, I've always seen Roger as the kind of guy to smirk or do something cocky when a girl hits on him. Boy, was I wrong. Roger pales slightly and his eyes go wide. Also, his hands get really hot. Hmm... interesting.

"Really?" Okay. Now I almost feel bad. He sounds hopeful.

"Of course. Isn't it obvious?" He tries to appear more confident, then gets an angry look in his eyes.

"What about Monroe?" I pretend to scoff.

"Simon? Oh please. What is he compared to you?" Roger grins a bit.

"Oh really?" He says with a faint smirk.

"Uh-huh. After all, you're tall, and handsome, and toned." I take the oppurtunity to check out his abs. "_Very _toned. Not to mention, you're funnier, smarter, faster, a way better singer, oh and I can't forget, you have _way _better taste in music." Over Roger's shoulder, I see Simon- who's been peeking out every now and then to make sure I'm not doing anything he wouldn't approve of- pales considerably. It takes a lot of restraint not to take back all of what I just said. Roger, unlike Simon, has become a tomato. A real fucking tomato. It's cute. "Plus, you can't have a satisfying Star Wars- or My Chemical Romance-based conversation with Simon, trust me, I've tried." He laughs a little at this.

"So, does this mean you're going to join our camp?" He asks.

"Oh, of course not!" I say in a rush. He looks confused, so I continue. "It'd seem suspicious, don't you think? And as much as I like you better, I don't think I have it in me to break Simon's heart that way just yet. Give it time, okay? Until then, I can stay with them for a bit, and help you guys in whatever way possible. Doesn't that plan make more sense?" I ask, batting my eyelashes and rubbing his upper arm lightly. He nods rapidly, looking too stunned to say anything. Behind him, Simon has completely frozen. I see Ralph trying to snap him out of it, which works a little too well. Simon stumbles back and knocks over the row of spears they have lined up against a boulder, and they crash loudly against the ground.

"What was-" Roger begins to turn and I can think of only one option. I grab his face in my hands before he can see and start kissing him. He seems much more than a little caught off guard at first, but once he gets over the initial shock he slowly gets comfortable enough to kiss me back. And I'm ashamed to say, the first thought I have is, _Why didn't I do this sooner? _I've got to give the kid credit, for all he lacks in his ability to flirt, he makes up for in his ability to kiss. I open my eyes while still kissing him, and see that now both Ralph and Simon have stopped and are staring at me in shock. I roll my eyes and wave for them to get their shit together. Ralph snaps out of it, gathers all the weapons they stole, and drags Simon with him into the woods. I sigh in relief and pull away from Roger.

"Well, that was fun. We should do it again some time." Before he can respond, I take off into the woods after my friends, leaving him still absolutely stunned behind me. It's not long till I come across Ralph and Simon waiting for me in a clearing. "Well, I think there's a lesson in all this. Never doubt my ability to catch people by surprise." Ralph chuckles, but Simon stays silent. "Simon, you okay?"

"Yea, it's just...you kissed him."

"Relax Simon. It was just to save your asses, and I promise it won't be happening again if I have anything to do with it," I say, not caring to mention that I might not have anything to do with it. He smiles a bit.

"All right. One more thing though," he says. "I'm a better kisser right?"

"Oh yea, of course!" I say. He brightens up considerably at this.

"Okay! Now that that's out of the way, let's head back to the meadow!" With that, he strides off ahead of us.

"Man I hate lying to him," I mutter. Ralph chuckles and we walk to follow him.

"Not so fast," someone says. Jack steps out of the dark, holding Simon by the collar. "You're not going anywhere."

...Well shit.

**Haha, that was a fun chapter. I loved all the awkwardness. If you didn't figure it out, she was supposed to distract Roger so Simon and Ralph could steal some stuff to protect themselves with. I think she did a pretty good job, haha. Please review!**


	22. You're Gonna Go Far Kid

**I'm back again! Pretty fast right? I'm pretty fucking proud of myself. It ain't a shabby chapter either, if you ask me. Hey, did you know Roger's potato-picking Irish? I just found that out. A few days ago, my mom told me that her grandma lived in a really small town in Ireland with only two families: her family, the Gallaghers, and the McAllistors. The McAllistors had fingers shaped like shovels, which makes them potato-picking Irish. Isn't that interesting? I thought so. And guess what else! I'm excited! You know why I'm excited? BECAUSE I FINALLY GET TO USE MY ALL TIME FAVORITE SONG! YAAAY! Personal victory, if you ask me. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for a chance to use this song in a story. So, enjoy.**

**Songs: (briefly) Johanna Reprise from Sweeney Todd and You're Gonna Go Far Kid by The Offspring**

Well here I am again! Trapped by goddamn hunters for yet another week. Well, at least I've got Simon and Ralph with me this time. Like they say, misery loves company, and I'm a selfish bitch. And another positive change is that I've figured out how to keep the boys away: just act like I've lost my fucking mind. Not hard, seeing as I've always been kind of batshit to begin with. I don't have many routines, but the ones I do have work just fine: yelling phrases from the Our Father in Latin (we had to learn the Latin version in school), barking, howling, laughing maniacally at absolutely nothing. Latin works especially well. It freaked Ralph and Simon out too until I explained it, at which point they suggested we take advantage of the privacy to plan our escape. So far, we've got nothing. But we'll figure something out. I'm just in the middle of planning with them when I see Roger growing closer and start to growl and bark. He rolls his eyes and keeps coming.

"Easy Fido, I'm just coming to get you for littlun duty." Every night since being captured, they've made it my job to put the kiddies to bed again. I sigh and allow him to untie me.

"Can I bring Simon this time?" I ask. He gives me a weird look. "What? He's a better singer than I am, and I can't hit the low notes in this one lullaby." Roger looks at me impatiently but unties Simon as well, then walks us over to the littluns' cave. He lets us go at the entrance, where he and Maurice will stand guard until we're done. Simon and I continue to the back of the cave, where the littluns are waiting. Once we get there, we wrap each of them up in ratty old choir cloaks and jackets then ask them if they want a story or a lullaby. As usual, they choose a lullaby.

This is where my sick sense of humor comes in. The last real lullaby I sang for them was The Gypsy Rover. Since being captured though, my song choices have all been darker themed, and usually have their bases in death: The Valley Song from The Hunger Games, Good Riddance, Cancer, Demolition Lovers, Disenchanted, and My Friends from Sweeney Todd. On the bright side, My Friends- which is a song about knives, by the way- was quite culturally enriching. Today I chose another Sweeney Todd song, Johanna Reprise. It's a duet, which is why I brought Simon.

**"I feel you Johanna  
>I feel you<br>Do they think that walls can hide you?  
>Even now I'm at your window<br>I am in the dark beside you  
>Buried sweetly in your yellow hair<br>Johanna," **Simon begins with Anthony's part, and I soon take over with a slightly higher version of Sweeney's part.

**"And are you beautiful and pale  
>With yellow hair, like her<br>I'd want you beautiful and pale  
>The way I've dreamed you were<br>Johanna," **I sing. We continue with the song like this, but singing at the same time for the rest of the song. When Simon and I finish, just about all the littluns are sleeping. Only Percival is still up. He holds his arms up.

"Can I have a hug good night?" I smile.

"Of course." I bend over to hug him and he gives me a kiss on the cheek.

"I love you Erin," he whispers. I'm surprised, but I can't help but beam at his cuteness.

"Love you too Perce. Now you should get some sleep, okay?" He nods and pulls his cloak tighter around him. I kiss the top of his head and Simon and I walk out. When we get to the end of the cave, most of the hunters are gathered there, smirking at us.

"Time to step up your game little brother," Jack teases. "The brat's getting more action that you are." Simon turns pink and I feel rage flare up.

"Just leave him alone!" I snap. Some of the boys hoot.

"Speaking English again, are we?" Jack laughs. "You like to sing do you?" I shrug and Jack laughs again. "Looky here boys, it looks like we've found ourselves a little choir girl!" The hunters laugh. "Why don't you sing something for us choir girl?" The boys hoot some more. I just force a sigh.

"Wish I could, but you guys might not enjoy my taste in music," I say, my voice oozing fakeness.

"Try us," Roger shoots back. I smirk a little.

"Is that a challenge?" He shrugs.

"What if it is?" Simon begins to lose his patience at this point.

"Just leave her alone," he says in annoyance.

"Simon, it's fine," I say quietly.

"No, it's not fine!" He exclaims. "You're not here for their entertainment!"

"Actually," Jack says, taking a step forward, "that's exactly why she's here. And the only reason you and Ralph are still breathing is so we can make her behave. Now are you going to shut up, or do I have to make you?"

"Uh, Jack? Can I have a second to talk to Simon? Thanks, you're a dear." Without waiting for a response, I drag Smon off to the side. "What are you doing?" I whisper.

"I'm trying to stop them from embarrassing you!" He whispers back.

"Well, stop it!" He looks confused. "If I do this, they'll be distracted long enough for you and Ralph to escape." His eyes widen and he shakes his head rapidly.

"No," he says. "No, I'm not leaving you on your own with them."

"Yes, you are," I insist. "Look this is the only way to get you both out safely. It'll be easier to get me out then. The hunters will be too busy looking for you guys to pay close attention to me and I'll escape at the first chance I get. Please Simon, this could be our only chance!" I plead. He sighs.

"Fine."

"Thank you! Okay, so when they tie you up again, I want you to flex all your muscles. That way, when you stop flexing the vines will be looser. Once you get untied, untie Ralph and take off, okay?" He nods and we walk back.

"Gonna sing for us toots?" One of the hunters calls. I force a smile.

"Looks like it." Jack laughs.

"Then get singing." He turns to Maurice and tells him to tie Simon up again.

"Any requests?" I ask sweetly.

"Surprise me," Jack says in what may be the creepiest tone of voice I've ever heard. Taking a deep breath, I begin singing the greatest song the world has ever been lucky enough to hear.

**"Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time  
>And turning all against one, it's an art that's hard to teach," <strong>I begin. Okay, so my song choice is "You're Gonna Go Far Kid," which to some people might be insulting. Well good. I hope they get that my message is 'fuck you.' Over Jack's shoulder, I see Simon cursing as he recognizes the song. I try my best not to look at him, seeing as he and Ralph are beginning their breakout.  
><strong>"Another clever word sets off an unsuspecting herd<br>And as you step back into line, a mob jumps to their feet," **some boys look confused, others look annoyed, Jack looks mad, and Roger's laughing quietly. I continue singing, trying to be as loud as possible in case Simon and Ralph make a sound.  
><strong>"Now dance, fucker, dance, man he never had a chance<br>And no one even knew, it was really only you**

**"And now you steal away  
>Take him out today<br>Nice work you did  
>You're gonna go far kid<strong>

**"With a thousand lies and a good disguise  
>Hit 'em right between the eyes, hit 'em right between the eyes<br>When you walk away, nothing more to say  
>See the lightning in your eyes, see 'em running for their lives<strong>

**"Slowly out of line and drifting closer in your sights  
>So play it out I'm wide awake, it's a scene about me<br>There's something in your way, and now someone is gonna pay  
>And if you can't get what you want, well it's all because of me," <strong>Finally, both Simon and Ralph are free and they slip into the woods. I fight back the urge to smile at our success. In a few minutes, they'll be in the clear. They'll be safe for the time being.  
><strong>"Now dance, fucker, dance, man I never had a chance<br>And no one even knew, it was really only you**

**"And now you lead the way  
>Show the light of day<br>Nice work you did  
>You're gonna go far kid<br>Trust, deceived**

**"With a thousand lies and a good disguise  
>Hit 'em right between the eyes, hit 'em right between the eyes<br>When you walk away, nothing more to say  
>See the lightning in your eyes, see 'em running for their lives<strong>

**"Now dance fucker dance, he never had a chance  
>And no one even knew, it was really only you<br>So dance fucker dance, I never had a chance  
>It was really only you<strong>

**"With a thousand lies and a good disguise  
>Hit 'em right between the eyes, hit 'em right between the eyes<br>When you walk away, nothing more to say  
>See the lightning in your eyes, see 'em running for their lives<strong>

**"Clever alibis, Lord of the Flies  
>Hit 'em right between the eyes, hit 'em right between the eyes<br>When you walk away, nothing more to say  
>See the lightning in your eyes, see 'em running, for their lives," <strong>I finish the song with a smile, but Jack just doesn't look amused. What a shame.

"Real funny Erin. Trying to hurt our feelings, that's cute. But in the future, I suggest you don't piss me off." Behind him, a hunter becomes aware of my friends' little disappearing act.

"Jack!" He yells. "They're gone!" Jack looks back at the vines laying on the ground and howls in outrage. I'm about to laugh when he pushes me back against a rock with his hand around my throat.

"You scheming little bitch!" He yells. "Where'd they go?"

"As far from you as they can get," I manage to choke out. Jack slaps me.

"Like to sing bitch?" He laughs humorlessly. "Well, I bet a night with Roger will have you singing like a canary." My eyes widen as he takes me by one arm and Roger takes the other.

"No, no please!" I shriek. "Let me go, let me go you little fuckers!" I kick and thrash and struggle against them as they drag me to Roger's cave. I even bite their hands a couple times, but it has little effect. In a matter of seconds, Jack has shoved me to the ground at the back of the cave and leaves me alone with his righthand man. As Roger comes closer, I back as far away from him as I can get.

"What're you doing?" He asks tiredly.

"Backing away from you," I say softly.

"Why?"

"Because you're gonna- gonna-" I can't bring myself to say it. "Make me blow the rape whistle." Roger chuckles.

"I'm not gonna make you blow anything." He realizes his mistake when I start giggling. "_That," _he says, trying not to laugh, "is not funny." I laugh harder.

"Yes, it really is." He lets out a chuckle.

"No it's not."

"Yes it is!" I insist. "See, you're laughing! Admit it!" He starts to really laugh.

"Okay, it's a little funny." He sits down next to me.

"So, if you're not going to be a creeper, what are you gonna do?" I ask.

"Hold on," he says. "I never said anything about not being a creeper.

"Ha-ha. So what're you gonna do?" I repeat. He grins devilishly.

"This." Roger grabs me by the shoulders and kisses me. Okay, so he wasn't lying about not being a creeper. But I turn the tables and catch him off guard by just sitting there and letting him. He seems surprised, obviously, but he keeps his lips pressed against mine. This is all well and good until he wants me to open my mouth. He doesn't dig his nails into my skin like usual, but he tries to push it open with his own. Obviously, it doesn't work. Eventually, he resorts to biting my lip and pulling it down slowly while looking up at me with big puppy dog eyes. I can't help but laugh; it's fucking adorable! He pulls away, looking confused. "What's so funny?"

"You! You're acting so unlike yourself!" I laugh. He growls.

"It's not funny. You're not supposed to feel safe enough to laugh at me!" He exclaims, moving back further. "What happened?"

"I've finally figured you out Roger. You don't hate me," I say smugly. He narrows his eyes.

"What?"

"You don't hate me," I repeat. "If you did, I wouldn't still be here right now. You've had a million chances to have your fun and get rid of me: when I found you with Willie, when Percival pwned you, when I found you singing, that time when you found me buried in the sand and sang 'Blood' to me, the day of the feast. And that's only some of them! Face it Roger, if there weren't some part of you that gave a damn, I'd be long dead." When I finish, Roger pulls me up by my shoulders and pins me against the wall.

"Don't think for a second that I ever cared about you, you little piece of shit!" He hisses. I wince.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I whimper. He continues like I haven't said a word.

"I hate every fucking thing about you! Your voice, your personality, your hair, your face, your big pretty blue eyes, your very existence makes me sick! And I fucking HATE the way you make me act!" He yells. Then he mutters something else I can't hear. I sniffle.

"What?" He drops me and turns away.

"Nothing." Without looking at me, he shoves something in my hands. "Here's my jacket. I'm going out, don't expect me back until the morning." Roger starts walking out.

"Where are you going?" I call.

"On a weenie hunt!" He yells. And just like that, he leaves me shivering in the dark alone. It isn't without shame that I pull on the jacket, and it's with even greater shame that I admit that I like it. ...It's warm... and it smells good... really good... please don't judge me.

**Yea... that ending kinda sucked, I'm sorry. But other than that, I don't think this was that bad. I tried to mix in a little humor, a little drama, and a little romance, and I think I pulled that off pretty nicely. Please tell me what you thought in a nice little review! Also, I'm hoping to get nine reviews, you know why? If I get nine reviews, I will average exactly five reviews per chapter. Right now it's an average of 4.8 per chapter, and I don't like decimals. So please review if you read this, no matter what you thought, whether you have an account or not!**


	23. Mama

**Hey everybody! I'm back with the next installment of Teenagers! And it's a doozy too. I would've had it up yesterday, but I had to play tennis with my sister, then I went to a White Sox game, and after I had to go straight to bed because I had the first day of high school tennis tryouts this morning (it goes another four days, yikes!). But now I'm back from a very successful first day of trying out and I've updated this as soon as possible. Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter, hope you like it!**

Tonight, I have yet another nightmare. You know, I didn't have them very often before we crashed, but, like a lot of other things, the island changed that. This dream doesn't seem so bad at first though. I'm grown up, well fed, unbruised, healthy, and I'm in a nice house playing with a little six or seven year old boy. He's got curly, light brown hair like mine and my nose, along with the darkest brown eyes I've ever seen and a sly smile. He's my baby, and he's beautiful. I hear a car pulling up in the driveway and he looks up sharply, his smile vanishing.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Daddy's home," he whispers. Then he grabs my hand and starts pulling me towards the stairs. "We've got to hide, Mommy! Daddy's coming!" He pulls me all the way up the stairs into the attic, where he curls up in a corner.

"It's okay baby, it's okay," I whisper, pulling him into my lap and hugging him protectively. He shakes his head. I look down at him and gasp; his skin is blackened, his hair is scorched off in patches, and his eyes are empty sockets. Then I blink and he's normal again.

"What's the matter Mommy?" I shake my head.

"Nothing." Then I hear foot steps thudding up the stairs to the attic and I run to lock the door. Then I hear the foot steps stop and I slowly back away as the knob turns slowly back and forth. When it doesn't open, I hear a cold laugh. Next there's thud after thud, pounding against the door until something bursts through the wood- a metal baseball bat. A hand goes through the newly made hole and starts ripping away the wood until half the door is gone. A tall man steps through with the baseball bat over his shoulder. Now, this part is embarressing- my subconscious decided my future husband looks like Frank Iero, but taller, buffer, and meaner looking. I know, it's weird, but let's get back to the dream, shall we? When he's through the door, his eyes lock on me and he gives me a look that makes me want to crawl under a rock and stay there.

"Honey," he says in a voice so creepy it would give his expression a run for its money, "I'm home." That's when he starts swinging.

"Wake up!" I hear someone yell. Whoever it is shakes my shoulders- and none too gently. I open my eyes and see Roger leaning over me, dripping wet and looking seriously annoyed. I scramble back and he rolls his eyes.

"W-W-What are you d-doing here?" I stammer. He'd said he wouldn't be back until morning, didn't he?

"It's storming out there, I had to come back," he replies, sounding irritated. "I came back and you were mumbling not to hurt someone. You wouldn't fucking shut up."

"I'm s-s-sorry," I stutter. He doesn't say anything, just folds his arms over his chest and leans back against the wall of the cave. There's something decidedly hostile about it and I begin to wonder if he's changed his mind about what he said before. I don't say a word, but he knows without me having to.

"I told you I wouldn't do that and I won't. I don't go back on my word. But next time, I'll do whatever the hell I want, got that?" I nod, ducking my head. "Good." This is followed by what just might be the most uncomfortable silence I've ever experienced. After a few seconds, I hear a clicking sound that I recognize as chattering teeth. It only just occurs to me that after being in the pouring rain, Roger must be freezing. Guilt starts nagging at me. He gave me his jacket and his cloak, and he may be an evil little prick, but he's had a million chances to 'you know' me and chosen not to. That's got to count for something, right? Plus, I figure he's going to hell, and I'm not exactly the model catholic, so I need to make up lost ground and put as much afterlife distance between us as possible- starting with the little things. I slip the jacket off my shoulders and wordlessly hand it to him. He scowls, but takes it. After a few minutes of me rubbing my arms to try to warm myself up, he sighs and waves me over.

"Come here," he says. I look up at him a little through my hair.

"What?" I ask. Roger rolls his eyes again.

"I'm not going to let you freeze, that's not the way I do things. So come over here and let me keep you warm so you're healthy when it's time for me to do things my way!" When I hesitate, he growls and I scramble over to him. He chuckles as he pulls me into his lap and wraps his arms around me. "Try to calm down sweetheart. Fear just makes me want to hurt you more," he whispers against my neck. I shiver and he chuckles again. 'Make yourself comfortable, we've got quite a while until the morning." I take a deep breath and try to adjust, leaning back against him and resting my head on his chest. I try to keep calm as he relaxes and tightens his grip around my middle. It makes me miss hands running through my hair, arms gently holding me close, a feeling of safety. It make me miss my Simon.

* * *

><p>I wake up to Roger lifting me off his lap and setting me on the ground, then shaking my shoulders. I open my eyes and scoot back instinctively when I see him. He just sighs and pulls me to my feet by the arm.<p>

"Time out's over. You can play the happy prisoner again." I let him lead me back to the boulder they've kept me tied to and don't say a word as he ties me back up. I know now that thing's are escalating, that Roger won't go easy on me next time. It seems that my best chance is to stay on the hunters' good sides and hope that Ralph and Simon come back for me soon.

I spend the whole day tied down in that one spot watching the boys carry out their daily activities. Mostly they hunt or maintain their weapons, some like Maurice entertain and train the littluns, others guard Castle Rock, and they all take turns guarding me. What I've noticed is that all my guards have different views of me, based on the looks they give me. Maurice seems to pity me, Robert seems mildly interested, kind of in the way most boys would be if there was a hot girl on an otherwise mediocre TV show. Bill, who I've figured out is a real horndog, seems lustful, Henry just smirks and does that half nod all boys seem to have mastered. Jack looks at me appraisingly, as if wondering what I'm going to do next, and what I'm really worth to them. Roger doesn't look at me at all, unless it's to glare at me in that soul withering way he had when we first landed on the island, that scowl that says, 'You say a word to anyone and you'll both be dead in two seconds flat.' I shudder at this last thought and count my blessings that the day is finally over.

I actually have grown to like evenings here. At night, when the boys are gathered together around the fire and they're tired of dancing and they have nothing better to do, they drop the savagery to return to the one thing that tied them all together before the island. At night, they all sing. I can't properly put into words the feeling in the air when they sing. On one side, it's enticing, enchanting even. It draws my full attention to them and only them, as if all the rest of the world never existed, like their voices hold that one thing every person seems to be missing; it makes my heart feel lighter, makes me want to live and breathe the music.

But on the other hand, there's something impure and unaccessable about it. A feeling of darkness and emptiness and longing is brought every time Jack draws out a C sharp; it's there every time Maurice's baritone voice sings a harmony; it's completely and unbearably present every time Roger's sad, honey rich voice floats over a D flat. And when they're done, all that joy and pain and emotion is ripped away and you're left with nothing but a piece of a tune stuck in your head and a desperate wish to hear them again. There's so much sadness and anger and desperation in their voices as they sing only songs about hell and being damned. It's like they know their fate, and you can't help but feel that weight with them. Tonight they fail to disappoint. Tonight it's not sadness, but anger and panic, frustration and excitement that roll off their tongues. Their voices along with the song itself convey a kind of chaos that makes my heart pound harder than it did at the feast. But despite this, I can't help but laugh a little at the familiarity of the opening lyrics as Jack sings them.

"**Mama, we all go to hell**," he begins the first verse to one of my favorite songs alone. He's got a knowing smirk etched onto his face, and the expression is twisted and deformed by the firelight tracing the lines of his pale skin. I find myself lost in the music and his devilish features as he finishes the verse and the other hunters join in for the refrain.

"**And when we go don't blame it on us, yeah.**  
><strong>We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah<br>You made us oh so famous,  
>We'll never let you go<br>And when you go don't return to me, my love," **Roger picks up with the second verse and his facial expression is something purely demonic. The light flashes off his sharpest teeth- an effect he never fails to use- he's got the mosed dangerous, deranged smile ever managed by a thirteen year old on his handsome face, and there's a fire in his eyes as he slinks around the circle, darting in and out of shadows and popping up just behind some unfortunate hunter. Then he begins marching in a sort of drunken way, waving his arms about flamboyantly when he starts my favorite part.

**"Well Mother, what the war did to my legs and to my tongue  
>You should've raised a baby girl, I should've been a better son<br>If you could coddle the infection they can amputate at once  
>You should've been, I could have been a better son." <strong>The boys pick up with the refrain, then Maurice sings the 'she said you ain't no son of mine' part, and Jack takes over for the bridge and the yelling part. When he finishes that, they're silent. I nearly laugh; I should've guessed none of them would want to sing the girl's part.

"**But if you would call me your sweetheart,  
>I'd maybe then sing you a song," <strong>I sing it softly under my breath out of habit. It's nearly a whisper, but they all hear and look over in shock. Roger, unlike his friends, just smirks and picks up with the last verse.

**"But there's shit that I've done with this fuck of a gun  
>You would cry out your eyes all along." <strong>The boys shake off their surprise and join him.

"**We're damned after all  
>Through fortune and flame we fall<br>And if you can stay then I'll show you the way  
>To return from the ashes you call<strong>

**"We all carry on,  
>(we all carry on)<br>When our brothers in arms are gone  
>(when our brothers in arms are gone)<br>So raise your glass high for tomorrow we die  
>And return from the ashes you call." <strong>Jack supplies the echo and the scream at the end, and then the boys fall silent. Then slowly, one by one, they go to their caves and I'm left alone in the dark. What I'm learning is that it's a feeling you never really get used to.

* * *

><p>I'm woken in the middle of the night by a little hand shaking my shoulder gently. I open my eyes and see Percival crouched in front of me.<p>

"What're you doing Perce?" I whisper groggily. He shushes me.

"I'm saving you," he says, beginning to untie me from the rock. I look at him in shock and confusion. I'm the only friend he has here, why would he want me to leave?

"Why would you do that?" I ask softly as he finishes the last knot and the vines fall off. He looks up at me.

"I told you, I'll always protect you," he says, repeating the same thing he told me when he saved me from Roger. I hug him tightly and kiss the top of his head.

"How about we both go? Does that sound good Perce?" I ask. He nods excitedly. I smile. "Good. Let's go." I pick him up and carry him on my hip as we start sneaking out. We turn around past Jack's cave and I stop dead in my tracks. Johnny is standing there looking just as shocked as I feel.

"Jack!" He screams. I spin around just in time to see Jack running out of the opening to his cave. I wince slightly; his steps don't make a sound. Jack looks from me and Percival to Johnny and glares in my direction.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asks.

"For a nice leisurely stroll?" I offer. He chuckles a little.

"Nice try." He turns to Johnny, who's appeared at his side, and squats down to look him in the eye. "Go get Roger for me buddy." Johnny nods and Jack ruffles his hair affectoinately before he takes off to get the sleeping sadist. "You know, I should probably thank you for dragging the brat into this. I've been looking for an excuse to get him off my hands." I shudder and hold Percival closer to me.

After a few seconds spent silently under Jack's predatory gaze, Johnny returns with a groggy and irritated looking Roger on his heels. Roger looks to Jack silently, his face obviously communicating something that only Jack can understand. It'd seem weird, but I don't think I've ever heard Roger say more than two words to his best friend.

"Punish them," Jack says shortly. Roger doesn't ask why.

"Both of them?" he asks. Jack nods.

"You know what to do." Roger nods then walks up and roughly tugs Percival out of my arms.

"Why don't we start with you, rugrat?" He says with a nightmarish smile. Percival whimpers and trembles.

"No!" I blurt. Roger looks over sharply and quirks an eyebrow as if to ask, 'you want to go first?' I glance over at Percival and the fear dominating his expression breaks my heart. This terrified little six year old was willing to do everything in his power to save me. That innocent need to protect is something I've never known anyone to have but him. I can't let him get hurt because of it. "I'll take his punishment. Just let him go." Jack and Roger look at each other, amused.

"All right," Jack says. "Take a rougher punishment if you really want. Have at it Rog." Roger grins.

"Happily." Roger starts toward me and I back up until my back is pressed against a tree. He smirks as he completely closes the space between us and leans his forehead against mine. "Don't worry about it Shitbrains. You'll live," he whispers. "Probably." He bends his head over and kisses down my neck all the way down to my shoulder, where he sinks his excessively sharp canines into my skin. I cry out in pain as blood drips down my shoulder. He spits. "God that stuff is disgusting," he mutters so only I can hear. Then he changes his tone and runs a thumb over the scar on my cheek. "This seems to be healing nicely." He whips out his knife and slices the cut open again. I gasp and tears run hot and fast down my cheeks and sting the cut. "Scream," Roger demands. I shake my head and he slaps me hard. "I said scream bitch." I shake my head again. He growls and wraps a hand around my throat and lifts me up. I cough and gasp for air and behind Roger, I see Percival trembling and Johnny frozen and wide-eyed. I start kicking and thrashing and he drops me. I land on my stomach on the ground, sobbing helplessly. Percival starts crying too and Johnny stays frozen. I look up at Jack.

"Please don't make them watch this," I say hoarsely. Jack raises an eyebrow.

"Why shouldn't they?" he asks, sounding peeved.

"Johnny's like a little brother to you isn't he?" I ask softly. "Not like Simon, Johnny's a little brother you'd actually want. I can tell by the way you treat him. Do you really want him to see this?" Jack looks at me curiously.

"Johnny, Percival, both of you go back to bed," he says, never looking away from me. They both hurry off.

Once they're gone, Roger crouches down and pulls me up into a sitting position by my injured shoulder and hisses, "Scream. Now." He digs his fingers into the wound. I shriek.

"Somebody help me!" I scream. He smiles sickeningly.

"There we go. I bet Simon heard that." He stands. "Stay down." He kicks me in the side right underneath my rib cage and I collapse again, crying out. He continues kicking me repeatedly for a few minutes while I continue crying. Then he straddles my stomach and slaps me around some more, causing blood to spurt out of my cheek. Jack looks slightly nauseous, but doesn't move to leave or stop Roger. Roger takes my hands and cuts open both my palms where they had finally started to heal. "The last handprints washed off in the rain," he whispers in my ear, squeezing both my sides and making me gasp. "Fix it." I allow him to smear the blood all over my hands and then grab his biceps to leave new handprints. He smirks. "Thank you." Roger kisses my temple in an extremely discomforting way, then gets off me and walks away. "That should do for now," he says as he passes Jack. I continue to shake as Jack picks me up and carries me back to camp and ties me up again. Once he's gone, I allow myself to cry my eyes out, something I'd held back while they were there.

**So what'd you think? Was Roger out of character? Did I do a good job with the violence? To be honest, this was probably one of the hardest chapters to write. I haven't written straight out violence with no sort of sexual assault since... since... I don't think I've done it since Fate of the Boys! And of course, there was sexual assault here, but it wasn't as prevalent as I normally make it. Anyway, I noticed somebody took this off their favorites list! :C Whoever it is, could you maybe tell me why? I won't hold it against you, I just want to know. Okay, so please review, and pleeeeeaaaaaase wish me luck at tennis tryouts, I really wanna make the team!**


	24. Ghost of You

**You know, I was in a great mood earlier today. Then I finished this chapter. I'd say more, but I don't want to ruin it for you. So thanks to all of you for the TEN FREAKING REVIEWS! (that's awesome) and I hope you all won't hate me by the end of this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Flies or the awesome song used in this chapter  
>Awesome song used in this chapter: Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance.<strong>

The next morning, I can see al the boys looking at me strangely when they walk past and I know that Roger didn't hide his work as well as usual. My cut still stings from sweat and tears and the bruises all over my body are throbbing with pain. Luckily, Jack tied my ropes looser than last time, so I can bum-scooch over so I'm facing the woods instead of them. Even so, I duck my head so no one can see my face.

As the day goes on, I'm using my full effort to try to keep everyone away, even those that mean well. Maurice asked what happened to me and I spit in his face. After that, everyone pretty much steered clear. I hug my knees to my chest and try not to think about the pain searing... well, everywhere. The only one who dares to approach me is Roger.

"Aw, don't sulk sweetheart," Roger says softly, brushing my hair behind my ear and tilting my chin up so that I'm looking up at him. "You're still prettier than my ex." I scowl at the joke.

"That's n-n-not funny," I stammer quietly.

"I was being serious. She bruised easily. It's why we moved to Illinois. You know, you'll be smarter than her too if you don't press charges," he says.

"You w-went to court?" I ask, now wondering why he's not in juvie. He shakes his head.

"It _really _pays to be rich," he replies.

"So you paid her to shut up?" I ask. He gets a weird look on his face.

"Sure. That's what I did," Roger says. "But let's get back to you shall we?" He gently rubs his finger over a bruise on my cheek and I wince. "Want me to kiss it better?" I scoot back, but he just leans forward and presses me against the rock. Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to move where no one can see me. His hands are flat on the rock over my shoulders and he's leaning his forehead against mine. "You know, your eyes are a lot prettier when you're crying." I squeeze my eyes shut and he moves his head to the side of mine. "Don't be like that," he whispers, his lips brushing lightly over my ear as he speaks. I shiver. Chuckling, he runs the back of his knuckles lightly across my neck from the front to the back. Then in one fluid motion, he grabs my hair and yanks my head back with it. I yelp. "Shh," he says softly, "we wouldn't want anyone interrupting now would we?" I whimper and try to pull my head back down, but he just tugs harder. Then he leans in and kisses along my jawline and neck. I close my eyes and pray for it to end soon when he bites down on the side of my neck gently- then I begin praying that he's not a vampire. It's not for a few seconds that I realize I'm getting a hicky. Great. That's just what I need right now, more proof that I'm a spineless pushover with a strange magnetism for weirdos. He moves his head up and starts kissing me. He's just biting down on my lip when he's interrupted.

**I never said I'd lie and wait forever  
>If I died, we'd be together<br>I can't always just forget her  
>But she could try<strong>

"Roger, come on! We've got to hunt!" Jack yells. Roger pulls back and bites the inside of his lip, looking frustrated.

"I've got to go Shitbrains. Try not to miss me too much." Witht hat he stands and walks away. Once the hunters leave, I'm pretty much alone. Maurice has taken the littluns to the beach to teach them the dance and Samneric are off in their own little world fencing with their spears when they're supposed to be guarding Castle Rock. So yeah, I'm pretty much on my own. I'm actually starting to get comfortable when the rhythmic clacking of their spears stops.

"You shouldn't-"

"-be here guys," I hear them say.

"It's dangerous," this part is said in unison.

"We've got no one else we can turn to," says a beautifully familiar voice. _Ralph. _"We just want to talk to her for a few minutes." _We? _I think. _Then that means he's with-_

"Please, we'll leave you alone after this," an even awesomer voice pleads. _Simon. _My heart skips a few beats at the sound of his voice and the heaviness in my chest lifts for a few seconds. I feel a sensation of false security just at the sound of it and all I want is to see him.

"I don't know," either Sam or Eric begins.

"Jack says we're not supposed to let you guys up. He says you're the enemy now," the other finishes.

"Jack doesn't need to know!" Ralph reasons. "We'll be up there for five minutes and we'll be out before he's gone. You guys were our friends before, why can't you be our friends now?"

"You don't know-"

"-what he's planning-"

"- to do. He's had Roger sharpen a stick at both ends." I shiver just thinking about what that could mean.

"They're looking for you right now. He says-"

"-that he's gonna-"

"-it's just awful what he's planning-"

"-it's better if you guys just stay away."

"Just five minutes," Simon tries again. "That's all we ask." I can almost picture the twins sharing a nervous glance before they answer.

"All right," they say reluctantly. I hear an exclamation of gratitude I can't quite make out and then the sound of people bounding up the side of the cliff to where I am. The next thing I know, Simon slides around the side of the rock and lands on his knees, cursing slightly at how much that must have hurt. Once his colorful cries are finished, he looks up and smiles at me, then hugs me tightly.

"Thank God you're okay," he says softly. I really wish these stupid vines didn't get in the way of me hugging him back. He pulls back. "You are okay right?" Then he looks me over and a seriously pissed off expression crosses his face. "Who did this to you?" he asks, even though I'm sure he already knows.

**At the end of the world**  
><strong>Or the last thing I see<strong>  
><strong>You are<strong>  
><strong>Never coming home<strong>  
><strong>Never coming home<strong>  
><strong>Could I? Should I?<strong>  
><strong>And all the things that you never ever told me<strong>  
><strong>And all the smiles that are ever ever...<strong>  
><strong>Ever...<strong>

"Roger," I say quietly. "Johnny caught Percival trying to help me escape and called for Jack and him. I took Percival's punishment." Simon scowls.

"That son of a-" he's interrupted by a much more cheerful visitor skidding around the corner.

"Hey guys-" Ralph starts, cutting himself off when he gets a good look at me. "Shit. What happened to you?" I smile at his familiar stupidity.

"What do you think marshmallow man?" He scowls and I laugh.

"Hush children!" Samneric say in unison down below.

"What are you guys doing here?" I say more quietly.

"We've got a plan!" Ralph says proudly. "We're going to get you out of here." My eyes widen and I start getting excited.

"Right now?" I ask.

"Can't now. Samneric would get blamed and they'd get punished again. We've got to do this when they know it couldn't have been them," Simon replies.

"Oh. Then how are you going to do it?'' I ask. Ralph opens his mouth, but Simon holds his hand over it.

"We can't say right- aw gross man! Did you just lick me?!" he exclaims, jerking his hand back.

"I will not be silenced Simon Monroe," Ralph says in all seriousness. I roll my eyes.

"Why can't you say?" I ask. Simon looks uneasy.

"Because... we can't let Samneric hear. They might tell someone," he says quickly.

"Simon, I love you, but you're a terrible liar," I reply.

"Look, we just can't say, all right?" Ralph says. "We've got to go, I can hear the hunters, they'll probably be back in a few minutes!" I look from him to Simon frantically. There can only be one reason they're not telling me.

**Get the feeling that you're never**  
><strong>All alone and I remember now<strong>  
><strong>At the top of my lungs in my arms she dies<strong>  
><strong>She dies<strong>

"You're going to do something stupid aren't you?" I say, although it comes out as more of a statement than a question.

"Erin, when is anything I do without consulting Piggy smart?" Ralph asks. "I'm on my own here, and we're out of ideas. Now, they are getting really close, so we're going to go hide in the woods, and in ten minutes, Operation Piss 'Em Off begins. To the bat cave Simon!" Ralph then takes off and hides himself in one of the bushes at the edge of the forest, gesturing for Simon to follow. Simon rolls his eyes and turns back to me.

"We'll be right over in the forest, and in a few minutes I'll come back to get you. No one's going to hurt you anymore, okay?" he says, pleading with me not to ask anything else about the plan. I ignore his wishes.

"But-" He cuts me off.

"I've got to go." He kisses the top of my head and then runs into the woods after Ralph.

In just a few minutes, every single hunter sprints out of the trees, running right past the very bush my friends are hiding in. They don't notice the two boys, they're all too excited about the dead animal they've got tied to a spear that they're dragging in. Yet another dead pig. Yum. Hey, did you notice the sarcasm? I thought it might be hard to tell. Anyway, all the boys gather in a large circle around Jack and Roger, who are cutting it open and throwing chucks of meat at them at random. Finally, the two leaders take the remainder of the pig for themselves and they all take part in the most gruesome, messy, and gory afternoon snack I think the world has ever seen. It's enough to make me sick. Well, actually, that's a lie. I'm always sick. As I'm thinking this, I notice Simon glancing over at Ralph and Ralph nodding, as if to tell him to start something. And he does. He steps out of the bushes and walks into the middle of the camp, making no attempt to be sneaky or hide himself.

"Hey Jack!" he yells over the boys' chattering, spreading his arms out. "Are you up for a little family reunion?" The boys spread out so that Jack is standing in front of them. He smirks at his younger brother.

"Always," he replies. Simon smiles.

"Please pardon this pun," he says. Jack gives him a weird look.

"What pun?" he asks. Simon smiles wider.

"Then come at me bro." With that, he takes off towards the beach.

"Get him!" Jack yells. All the boys, even Maurice, Samneric and the littluns, all run after Simon with Jack and Roger leading the pack. Once they're far enough away, Ralph comes out of the woods and unties me.

"Well that went well," he says, smiling. As soon as my hands are free, I slap him with the force that only a pissed girlfriend could muster. "Hey! What was that for!"

"How could you let him do that?!" I yell. "They could hurt him, or capture him! What if something goes wrong!" I rant. He puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Relax Erin. Simon was the best runner on the track team at our old school, he'll be able to keep them off his tail. And once he's shaken them, he'll meet up with us at that cave we were hiding out in. Everything's going to be fine," Ralph replies. I bite my lip.

"I don't like this," I say softly.

"I know it's not the greatest idea, but it's the only option we have right now. Nothing's going to happen to him though, I promise," Ralph assures me. I sigh.

"All right. What do we do now?" I ask.

"We've got to start running, take advantage of the head start he gave us. The hunters aren't stupid, soon enough one of them will realize that Simon wouldn't just hand himself over like that." I nod and we start running.

I've got to say, it is great to be moving through the woods by my own free will again. A lot of that worry I had before was gone now that I know I'm not in any immediate danger. But I still haven't shaken that bad feeling this plan is giving me. That's not the only problem either, sadly enough. All that time spent at Castle Rock with no food and very limited trips to go get water has taken it's toll on my strength and my stamina. I can't hold out running for very long before I'm coughing and wheezing like a fat kid running a marathon. We slow to a stop and Ralph puts and arm around me, trying to calm me down.

**At the end of the world**  
><strong>Or the last thing I see<strong>  
><strong>You are<strong>  
><strong>Never coming home<strong>  
><strong>Never coming home<strong>  
><strong>Could I? Should I?<strong>  
><strong>And all the things that you never ever told me<strong>  
><strong>And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me<strong>  
><strong>Never coming home <strong>  
><strong>Never coming home<strong>  
><strong>Could I? Should I?<strong>  
><strong>And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me<strong>  
><strong>For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me<strong>

"I'm fine," I say. "I don't think I can run anymore though."

"That's okay," he replies. "We've got enough of a head start, I think we can just walk from here on out, we're not far anyway." We do just that, and the woods around me start to seem more familiar. We must be pretty close to the cave by now. I recognize the stream we're walking next to, the same one that runs through Simon's meadow. I recognize how the terrain is starting to become slightly rockier, more subtle than the abrupt change from woods to stone by Castle Rock. I feel safer and safer the further we walk, until we hear a twig snapping behind us and stop dead.

"Did you hear that?" I whisper. Ralph nods slowly. He looks around for a place to hide, but we're surrounded by nothing but trees.

"Climb a tree, now," he orders. I go over to a tree and he helps me onto the first branch. When I pull myself up, he climbs up and we both gradually climb higher and higher until we're about twenty feet in the air and mostly covered by the leaves.

"Oh Ralphie," a voice calls creepily. "You've got someone of ours, and we'd like her back." I inhale sharply as I recognize the voice as Roger's. I hear a soft chuckle. "I heard that Shitbrains." The next thing I know, he sends a spear flying in my direction, whistling past my ear and missing me by just an inch. I gasp and lose my balance, falling back off the branch. Ralph reaches out to grab me, but misses by about a foot and loses his balance. Luckily for him, he manages to grab onto the branch and hold on without making a sound. Unluckily for me, I'm not nearly that coordinated. I tumble through the leaves and hit the ground on one foot with a sickening _snap! _I collapse to the ground, writhing in pain and clutching my leg. I take one look at it and nearly throw up; I'm pretty sure femurs weren't meant to bend that way. I cry out loudly, and continue shrieking and bawling helplessly for a few seconds before Roger walks up and grabs my arm. "Get up," he hisses. He pulls me up roughly, and then doesn't let go when I fall back down again, and the next nauseating sound my body makes is a sort of popping noise. I scream agan. There goes my shoulder, right out of the socket. Roger holds me up by my other shoulder and glares. "Where's your pal?" he asks. Behind him and quite a bit higher than him, I see Ralph swinging off the branch and landing on a lower one. I want to yell at him to stop as he continues to climb down, but I can't without alerting Roger to where he is. "I said, _where is he?" _I shake my head.

"I d-d-don't know," I say softly in between sobs. He slaps me.

"Don't you lie to me. I know you're with him, they wouldn't leave you on your own. Now tell me where he's hiding!" Ralph is now on the lowest branch of the tree, preparing to jump again. "Tell me or I swear to God I'll-" Ralph leaps off the branch and lands behind Roger with a soft thud. Roger spins around behind me and whips out his knife in a split second. "Well that was easy."

"Let her go Roger," Ralph says with a tone of authority.

"Or you'll what?" Roger asks. "Lecture me to death? I'm the one with the knife to your little slut's neck buddy. Either you both come quietly or I kill you both _nice and slow." _Roger says with a much more frightening tone than Ralph's.

"Could you at least, you know, fix her shoulder?" Ralph says, giving in. Roger grabs my shoulder and forces it back in its socket. I scream again, but after a few seconds it feels _waaaay _better.

"Happy?" Roger says. "Let's go." He picks me up and carries me bridal style and makes Ralph walk in front, holding the knife to his back. "Did you know there's a place where you can stab a man's heart and sever his spinal chord at the same time?" he asks, sounding unnervingly calm. "Make a wrong move, and that could be you." Ralph gulps audibly and we keep moving in silence. There isn't a sound in the forest for a few minutes, but then, when we're just a minute or two away from Castle Rock, we hear a loud whoop. Roger smirks. "And that makes three." My heart pounds harder and I feel sick to my stomach. They caught Simon. When we get to the edge of the trees, we're on a hill overlooking the center of Castle Rock, where Simon's kneeling with his hands tied behind his back in front of Jack. "Let's watch shall we kiddies?"

"It's over little brother," Jack says. "We've got you, and this time you're not getting away." Simon just glares rebelliously.

"It doesn't matter. Erin and Ralph got away, you're not going to find them, and that's all that matters," he replies firmly.

"Aw, Si. Did you really think we were dumb enough not to figure out your plan?" Jack asks. "We sent Roger out for them. He's getting good at his job you know. The whole punishment and execution thing. I gave him free rein to do whatever he feels necessary when he finds them, I even let him take my own spear. It's a bit sharper than his. You should be reunited with Blondie _real _soon," he says, circling his brother predatorily and spinning the knife in his hand with the tip against his index finger. He stops for a moment behind Simon. "You might have to wait a little longer for your precious girlfriend though." Simon jerks his head back.

"What do you mean? What's he going to do to her?" he asks angrily. Jack shrugs, continuing his circle.

**If I fall**  
><strong>If I fall (down)<strong>

"I'm not sure you'd want me to go into details. If I'm remembering correctly, you were the only kid who fainted during The Talk in fifth grade. This would probably give you a heart attack," Jack replies calmly. "But she'll live." He bends over slightly and uses his knife to slowly cut across Simon's upper arm. Simon curses loudly and bites his lip to stop himself from letting anything else out. Jack continues like this, tormenting him, cutting him up, hitting him, kicking him. Simon faceplants a few times, but he's always forced back up to his knees. I look away, somewhat reluctantly burying my face in Roger's chest. He grabs my face and turns it towards them.

"Don't look away, I want you to see this." I push away from him and get down on my feet, moving to lean on Ralph. Roger glares. "Don't look away. You can stand there, but don't you dare look away." I watch with white knuckles watery eyes, and refuse to let him win. I'll watch. What's the worst that can happen?

"You know Simon? I don't know why I never thought of this earlier. I've been planning for what I'll do to Ralph for weeks, but I never gave you a second thought," Jack continues.

"Look Jack, we all know you're gay for him, but really, as your younger brother, I'd really rather not hear about how long you've been planning to kidnap and seduce my best friend," Simon says. Jack snorts.

"You think you're funny don't you?" he asks. Simon grins.

"I think I'm adorable," he replies. Jack growls and sends his palm flying up into Simon's nose, a sure way to break it. I wince and grab onto Ralph's arm like a vice.

"But like I was saying, I can't believe I didn't think of this! It's been such a long time since we've had one of our little chats. I think it's real fun, don't you?" Jack asks. Simon looks up. Blood is streaming down his face and his nose is disgustingly crooked, but he grins.

"I'm tickled," he says sarcastically. Under other circumstances, I might've laughed.

"It's a shame this might be our last. I have a feeling there's not much talking in your future," Jack replies. Simon's face drops.

"What're you gonna do, cut out my tongue? Honestly, that's cliche even for you Jack," Simon says.

"You know what I'm gonna do," Jack says. "You're a lot of things, but your not stupid Simon." Simon shrugs.

"Just get it over with," he says, sounding like he's pretty much given up at this point.

"Ralph," I say softly, looking up at him with watering eyes. "What's he talking about." Ralph looks as confused as I am.

"I don't know either," he says quietly. We look back at them.

"You know Mom wouldn't approve," Simon reminds him.

"Haven't you figured it out by now? There's no way anyone's going to find us after we've been gone this long. Mom will never know," Jack says. "No one would care anyway." Simon sighs at this, but doesn't comment. Jack stops and crouches down in front of him. "So Simon. Any last words?" Simon gulps, then glares into the older boy's cold blue eyes.

"Go to hell," Simon says rather uncreatively. Jack smirks.

"All righty then." I see him flipping the blade of the knife so it's facing Simon. I see him raising the blade. I see the flash as he swings his arm down. But I don't watch what happens next. I bury my face in Ralph's shirt, unable to watch. I guess Ralph can't watch either, because he immediately buries his face in my hair. "Meet me there?" I hear Jack say. Next there's a thud as Simon's body collapses to the ground one last time.

"No," I whisper.

"Sorry son of a bitch," I hear Roger mutter beside me.

"No," I whisper again. "No, no, no, no."

"Get him out of my sight," Jack says below at Castle Rock. I hear the boys picking Simon up and carrying him away, but I hardly register it. Simon can't be gone. He can't be, he can't, he can't, he can't.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," I continue chanting. Roger puts a hand on my shoulder and pulls me away from Ralph gently, shaking his head.

"Erin, you've got to-" I slap him and push him away.

**At the end of the world**  
><strong>Or the last thing I see<strong>  
><strong>You are<strong>  
><strong>Never coming home<strong>  
><strong>Never coming home<strong>  
><strong>Never coming home<strong>  
><strong>Never coming home<strong>  
><strong>And all the things that you never ever told me<strong>  
><strong>And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me<strong>  
><strong>Never coming home<strong>  
><strong>Never coming home<strong>  
><strong>Could I? Should I?<strong>  
><strong>And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me<strong>  
><strong>For all the ghosts that are never gonna...<strong>

"Get the fuck away from me!" I yell, tears streaming down my face faster than I can feel them going. I stumble back, but the second my right foot touches the ground I cry out in pain and collapse to the ground, where I assume the fetal position. "No, no, no!" I continue, my cries getting further apart and more and more desperate. I begin wailing from the gruesome agony of it all. I rock back and forth, shaking uncontrollably, just saying no again and again as if that one word could fix it all. Ralph crouches down beside me and pulls me into a hug, rubbing my back consolingly. "Tell me it's not true Ralph," I plead softly. "If you say it I know it's not." Ralph shakes his head.

"He's gone Erin," he says sadly. "Simon's dead."

**Sniff sniff. Please review. I'm sorry I did this to all of you. Please review if you can forgive me.**


	25. The New Ghost of a Divided Little Girl

**Hey! So I'm sorry it took me so long to update, but I just started my freshman year of high school, and I'm still get acclimated, so I've been more focused on school than writing. But, I've finally got it ready, and I hope you all like it. But before you read, I'd like to thank all my new and old readers, because you guys set a fucking record for my LOTF stories! 13 reviews for one chapter! Seriously guys, you have no idea what that means to me. So I'm dedicating this chapter to you, my lovely readers, for sticking with me despite my craziness and pathetic updating schedule! Enjoy!**

"No, no you're lying!" I exclaim. "He's just- just- he's not gone!"

"Erin, calm down," Ralph says.

"No!" I yell. I clap my hands over my ears. "Liar, liar, liar!"

"Erin, will you just-" Roger starts.

"La la la, I can't hear you!" I chant.

"Would you SHUT UP?!" Roger puts a hand on my shoulder. "It's over! Let's just get you inside okay?"

"No!" I shriek, pushing both boys away. "Get the _fuck _away from me!"

"Oh for Christ's sake!" Roger then slams his fist into my skull and everything around me goes black.

* * *

><p>"Erin," Ralph says, shaking my shoulders gently. "Erin wake up." His voice is hazy to me, but it does the trick. I sit up slowly and glance at the dingy gray stone walls around me.<p>

"Where are we" I ask. I feel a throbbing pain at the back of my head and then add, "What happened?" He looks uneasy.

"Roger caught us when we were trying to escape, and he kind of roughed you up. You broke your leg, he dislocated your shoulder- don't worry though, he put it back in place- and he knocked you out because you wouldn't stop screaming after..." he trails off, not wanting to say more. It all comes back to me and the dull aching sensation in the pit of my stomach becomes a searing, unbearable pain.

"Simon's dead," I whisper. I run both hands through my hair. "Oh God, Simon's dead." Ralph buries his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry Erin. I should've talked him out of it, we should've planned more or waited until we were all healthier. Oh God, I'm so sorry," he murmurs. I should probably comfort him. I should tell him it's not his fault, but the only word I manage to whisper is, "Simon.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. He reaches toward me, but I shrink back.

"I-I think I'm going to sit in the corner now," I say softly. Then I crawl to the corner, hug my knees to my chest, and cry silently. I cry and I cry until I can't cry anymore, all the while not making a sound. I don't elave the corner for a long time after I'm all cried out. In fact, I sit here for days. I'm vaguelyh aware of Roger coming to bring us food, and then Ralph trying to coax me to eat. Ralph may or may not ahve spent an hour sitting in front of me, waving his hands in my face and pleading with me to say something. It's possible that Percival came and cried helplessly before me, begging me not to ignore him anymore. If I'm rememering correctly, Maurice had to drag him out kicking and screaming. These things don't register with me, night and day don't make a difference anymore. All I can do is think and listen to the sounds, the ones in my head. I hear Willie's laugh and then his choked sobs, the voice of a boy hissing to shut up, during the rise of the sun. I hear the rumble and the crash of a rock, the thud of Danny's head hitting the ground and cracking during the afternoon. I hear Simon again and again, _Just get it over with._

Sometimes, I swear I hear Willie laughing, that high, breathy ghost of a laugh that his poor family will never know again. And then I can almost imagine him running in, asking me to play Superman, or to get Simon and Piggy and play Sardines.

**And your voice was all I heard, that I get what I deserve  
>So give me reason to prove me wrong, to wash this memory clean<strong>

Oh Willie, why couldn't I protect you well enough?

Then, when the hunters are gone and Ralph is lost deep in thought, as he often is nowadays, I feel like Danny's in here somewhere with us, just out of my field of vision. I imagine that he's sitting there, cleaning his glasses on his greasy windbreaker, just waiting for a nerd-off or a deep conversation about William Golding. But then I look around for him and see he's not there, and I feel more lost than ever.

**Little girl, little girl  
>You dirty liar<br>You're just a junkie  
>preaching to the choir<strong>

Why did they have to try to save me? Why did he have to keep talking?

Then there's the worst of all. I'll hear a laugh carried in by the breeze, one with some sort of musical note in there somewhere, and it's Simon. His laugh, the one his own brother silenced, the one that would go high, and he'd then correct by coughing and forcing a lower sound. That funny little laugh I'll never hear again. Why did he have to come back for me? If he had just waited, or if he had just let me go, he'd be alive right now. Would they have all been better off if I'd died in the crash, or drifted off to safety like I pray my family did? Other times, I hear Jack's voice, ordering the hunters or just taunting Ralph, but the words I hear don't match. All I hear is that awful farewell, _Meet me there. _He killed his own brother. And he doesn't even care.

**At the end of the world  
>Or the last thing I see<br>You are  
>Never coming home<strong>

There's a strange sort of guilt when remembering Simon, different from the guilt I feel over Danny and Willie. It's mixed with that awful fear I feel when Jack, my Jack Fitzgerald, gets really sick, like a few years ago when he had to go to the ER, and he was all alone in another state without us. I know the guilt, I felt it all the time, but it's worse now than ever.

I never claimed to be in love with Simon. Sure, I loved him more than I'd ever loved any guy outside my family, but I'm _fhirteen. _I know he most likely wasn't the love of my life, in the same strange way that I know I won't be one of those smiley old ladies sitting on the front porch with their husbands. I know that if we were ever rescued, I would've broken up with him so I wouldn't be the skanky chick, just in eighth grade and already with a boyfriend. That's for future hookers, everyone knows that. And now he's gone, and for all I know, he truly believed I loved him. Now I'm a liar with a dead boyfriend, which, believe me, is _far _worse than being the eighth grade skank with a living boyfriend. He died under an illusion, and I'll have to live with that forever.

It's when I think about this that the crippling guilt takes over me. It's that horrible feeling, the one I think most people must get when they think about death and other such unpleasant topics. It feels like bugs are crawling around on the insides of my stomach, like the acids in my stomach are building up and eating away at my insides, and my lungs can't seem to take in enough air. And with all this horrible guilty aching, all I can think is, _It's _my _fault that they're dead. _If I hadn't been there, Danny would've been in charge of the littluns. He never would've let Willie out of his sight, and Roger never would've gotten to him. If I hadn't been there, Simon wouldn't have been heartbroken. He would've gone to the feast with Ralph and Danny, and his life never would've been threatened in the first place. He wouldn't have gone back to save anyone because there wouldn't be anyone to save, and he'd be alive right now. If I hadn't been there for the hunters to kidnap me, Danny would've never started lecturing them, and Roger never would've killed him._ It's my fault. All my fault. _

And the worst part is, Ralph is next. And then I'll be alone, and it will be all my fault.

Tonight, on my fourth night of silence, Samneric make their first appearance all week. They're once again being trusted to watch us and make sure we won't get away, but seeing as I'm immobile and Ralph is too good to leave me behind, there doesn't seem to be much danger of that. The crippling ache has been coming in long, awful spurts all day, so when they begin talking to Ralph, I listen, thankful for any distraction.

"You can't-"

"-stay here Ralph. It's dangerous," one finishes for the other. Listening closely, I've begun to notice that Sam is always the one to start the sentence, and Eric is always the one to finish.

"What do you mean?" Ralph asks nervoushly.

"What we mean is that-"

"-Jack's sick of having you around. He's gonna-"

"-finish you off in a few days. Roger's-"

"-got a tick sharpened at both ends and everything," they say in low voices, not wanting to alert the others to what they were telling him. Ralph pales and scratches at the back of his neck.

"W-What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, sounding as if he already knows. The twins shake their heads.

"You have to leave Ralph," they say at the same time.

"Tonight, while they're all sleeping, we'll-"

"-tell you when it's okay, and then-"

"-you go and get as far as you can. That's-"

"-all you _can _do." Ralph considers this plan for a moment, glances at me in my corner, and shakes his head.

"Erin hasn't moved or spoken in days, and even if I managed to get her going, she can't walk on that leg, it's all swollen and it's still hanging at an angle. And I can't just leave her behind," he says. Then he sighs. "Thanks anyways guys. I really appreciate how much you've been trying to help us. I'm sorry it wasn't enough." The boys are all silent and refuse to look each other in the eyes. I raise my head a bit, look around at them, and then scowl.

"You've got to be freaking kidding me," I say, my voice dry and coarse from days of disuse. They all look up at me in shock.

"What are you-" Ralph starts. "Erin, there's nothing we can do."

"Ralph, Simon's dead, Danny's dead, and Samneric have been sticking their necks out for us at every opportunity. Most of our friends died, and all that's left is us Ralph. They died _for _us," I begin. "Ralph, they're going to chop your head off and put it on a stick, and when they're done with that, I'm gonna get fucking raped." All three boys turn a dark shade of red at my mention of the word. "Oh, it's going to happen and you know it. Anyways Ralph, we're both doomed if we stay here. Three kids have died on this island, and they plan on making you four. And you're saying that we should resign ourselves to that because _I have a broken leg? _Well, I'm sorry Ralph, but at the moment, my owwies are a bit of floccinaucinihilipillificati on! I can limp a few miles, I promise you it won't kill me. So hike up your skirt, grow a pair, and let's hit the road!" They all stare at me blankly.

"Erin-" Sam begins suddenly.

"-you can talk!" Eric continues in shock. I roll my eyes.

"Are we going or not Ralph?" I ask. He looks at me blankly, then chuckles awkwardly.

"I guess we're going." I grin.

"Well then. Samneric, we're on your signal."

**Yay! They're getting out of there! Did you like Erin's little shut down in the middle of the chapter. You have no idea how much sick pleasure I got writing that. I'm sorry, but I just love to torture my characters. I have sad/exciting news for you all. There's only about three chapters left after this one! And then, of course, there will be Going Under, but still, it won't be the same. However there will be some lovely new characters, who I shall give you a brief introduction to.  
>Jack Fitzgerald- brother de Erin<br>Alaina Fitzgerald- sister de Erin  
>Stella Caler- friend de Erin<br>Julia Martin- friend de Erin  
>Fiona White- friend de Erin<br>Mackenzie Manger- friend de Erin  
><strong>**Leo Carter- frenemy de Erin  
>Alexis Aarons- friend de Erin<br>Miles McAllister- brother de Roger  
>And those, my friends, are the characters you can be looking forward to in the sequel. So, I need to thank my friendsfrenemies, Stephanie, Julia, Fiona, MaryClaire, and Alex for letting me base characters on them in so many stories. Oh, and my older brother and sister, for being great inspirations for Erin's older siblings. That's about it. Oh, and did you enjoy my fanciful word in Erin's speech? It's real by the way. I learned it in Latin. Wow, I'm really rambling now. A little more rambling. If there is anything in particular you'd like to see in the last few chapters or in Going Under, please feel free to let me know, and as always, REVIEW!**


	26. To The End

**Guys, the time has come for the third to last chapter. And man, it's a doozy. The longest one I've ever written in face. I'll tell you the exact word count in the end note, I'm not quite sure what it is yet. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. The thing is, I had most of it written, but then my phone, the phone I have had since sixth grade, broke. You guys don't know this, but every single chapter of His Sleeping Beauty, The Fate of the Boys, The First Hunger Games, and yes, you guessed it, Teenagers was saved on that phone. And I lost every word of it. So I had to rewrite the entire thing. Which explains the delay. I'm really sorry, but here it is, thanks for all the reviews, hope you enjoy!**

**Song: To The End by My Chemical Romance**

Immediately, it becomes apparent that escape will prove more difficult than I expected. A few minutes after my speech, Ralph suggest I practice walking around. The second my foot touches the ground pain shoots up my leg and I hardly stifle a shriek of pain. I collapse back and Ralph lunges forward to catch me. His face is inches from mine, and his breath? It's REALLY bad. His blue eyes meet my own for just a moment and we both turn bright red. He sets me back down on the ground again.

"Well, that was a bust," I say. He nods. "What else can we do? We won't make it very far if I have to use you as a crutch the whole time." Ralph shrugs.

"We'll figure something out. We've got a few hours before it's safe to go." Just as he says that, we hear the whooping that tells us the hunters have returned. I look to Ralph and swallow hard. "It's okay," he assures me. We sit their silently, anxiously awaiting Roger's entrance, and as usual, he doesn't disappoint.

"Well, well, well, look who's rejoined the living," he says, smirking at me.

"What do you want Roger?" Ralph says, moving so that he's standing in between us. Roger shrugs innocently.

"Just bringing you your food," he replies, tossing both of us chunks of uncooked meat. "Bon appetit fuckers." He's required to stay with us and he does. Ralph and I sit there, picking at the meat bit by bit, not eating any. I taste a bit and gag, then put it down. "Screw you, that's good food," Roger says. I sigh and look down.

"To each his own," I mutter. Ralph chokes down a bite and hides a gag. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to give us cooked meat."

"And it definitely wouldn't kill either of you," Roger replies. "See the problem?"

"You're a dick," I say.

"And you're the island whore," he says. "Glad we've got that cleared up." My face flames up.

"Fuck you," I say. Roger smirks.

"By tomorrow night, you will," he replies. Ralph steps toward him angrily.

"Don't talk to her like that," he says threateningly. Roger raises his hands innocently.

"Easy there Blondie," he says. "Geez, your pal Simon's body isn't even cold and you're already hounding his girl. But ehy, I'm not judging, and I'm sorry I hurt the precious baby's feelings. And you know what? As a sign of good faith, I'll even let her off the chain and take her for a walk." Ralph stiffens and clenches his fists as Roger moves forward.

**He calls the mansion not a house but a tomb.**  
><strong>He's always choking from the stench and the fume.<strong>  
><strong>The wedding party all collapsed in the room.<strong>  
><strong>So send my resignation to the bride and the groom.<strong>

"She _can't _walk," he says through clenched teeth. Roger shrugs.

"Sure she can." Roger grabs my arm and tugs me forward. My leg pulses with pain when my foot touches the ground and I crash forward into Roger's arms. "And so what if she can't? I like where this is going." Ralph scowls and helps me away from Roger, letting me lean on him instead.

"She can't walk," he repeats. Roger walks over, sweeps an arm under my knees, another around my back, and picks me up.

"So she won't," he replies. And then he strides out, ignoring Ralph yelling to come back. I'm completely silent as he carries me away, for once in my life. It seems unreal to me that it could happen _today_, the very day we plan to leave. He talks to me as we go.

"You know Erin, it wouldn't kill you to behave for us. You could be watching the kiddies like before. Then you wouldn't be stuck in that cave by yourself," he says softly, kissing under my ear. I shudder.

"I-I'm n-n-not by myself," I whisper. "I have Ralph." He chuckles lowly.

"Not for long," he sing-songs. "Jack says tomorrow is the day of judgment, and that means for you too." I feel my heart stop for not one, not two, but three seconds and my stomach has that grief-ache again. Then I take a deep breath. _We're leaving, we'll be okay,_ I think. He sets me down on the ground at the base of a tree and crouches down by me. "You don't need to go into shock like that. It's tomorrow, not tonight."

****Let's go down!**  
><strong>This elevator only goes up to ten.<strong>  
><strong>He's not around.<strong>  
><strong>He's always looking at men<strong>  
><strong>Down by the pool.<strong>  
><strong>He doesn't have many friends.<strong>  
><strong>As they are<strong>  
><strong>Face down and bloated snap a shot with the lens.<strong>**

"I know," I say softly. He smiles a bit, his incisors digging into his lower lip.

"Good," he replies. He then leans over and presses his lips forcefully to mine. Nothing more, for once. Then he leans his forehead against mine, his hand reaching for the knife at his waist. I grab his wrist.

"Please," I plead. "Just this once, please." He shakes his head.

"Sorry toots. Maybe tomorrow." He whips out the knife and presses it to the skin stretched over my collar bone. I don't feel it at first, bit then the pain pierces through my nerves like fire, just as it always has. I whimper and a tear rolls down my cheek, but I don't scream. It's strange how the pain is something I've become accustomed to. The blood leaks slowly down my skin, staining what's left of my camisole. "Red's a nice color on you," Roger says lightly, wiping the blood off his blade with his index finger.

"That's not funny," I stammer. He acts as though he hasn't heard me.

"You know what's funny Erin?" he says absentmindedly drawing the tip of cold silver against the skin beneath my chin. "I haven't been genuinely angry at you since the first time I kissed you." He digs the blade deep into my skin, drawing delicate, pointed lines of pure red. I cry out as he finsihes the first small insignia, and even louder as he etches a new pattern on the opposite corner of my jaw. When it's done, he takes a moment to admire his handiwork, smiling like a weak-minded child. Then he leans in and kisses the first mark. 'R," he says, then kissing the other, "M. Do you know what that means?"

"It's your name," I choke out through my sobs. He nods.

"Roger McAllister. So that _everyone _knows you're mine," he says. I feel suddenly dizzy from the bloodloss, drowsy, drunken with fear and pain and exhaustion, and it's this drunkenness that prevents me from stopping myself when I start staring at his lips; they're tainted red with my blood. Without thinking, I reach out and wipe the blood away with my thumb. His lips are soft, warm and smooth in the places touched with blood, dry and chapped where they aren't. Feeling his confused stare concentrated on me, I snatch my hand away. He catches it.

"Tell me something," he says softly.

"What?" I ask.

"Anything," he replies. I glance from his mouth, to his biceps, to his eyes.

"You're pretty," I say thoughtlessly. He laughs.

"Just what every guy wants to hear," he says. I look down embarressedly. Suddenly, he cranes his head down under mine and captures my mouth with his. I turn my head away sharply. "Don't be like that." I shake my head, and it clearly pisses him off. Growling, he grabs my hair and yanks my head back, exposing my neck. He wraps the other hand around my neck and clamps down tightly. I gasp for air desperately for a minute or two, and everything's beginning to go black when he releases me. I gulp down breath as fast as I can and he puts his lips to my throat. I begin to cry and he wipes away the tears, then slaps me in the place where they'd stained my face. I cry out loudly.

"Shh," he whispers. He stands up and pulls me up by the shoulder, then kicks my broken leg out beneath me. I scream again. He bends down and claps his hand over my mouth, then proceeds to knee me in the side repeatedly. I whimper. Then, he suddenly drops his hands to his sides and leans back, looking exhausted. He stays there, his eyes closed for some time while I lay on the forest floor trembling. When he snaps out of it, he wordlessly gathers me into his arms, walks over to a nearby tree and sits leaning back against it with me in his lap, his head tucked into the crook of my neck. And we just lay there.

"You know what's funny Roger?" I say after a while. His response is a simple, "hmm?" I adjust my position in his arms, lean in closer to him for warmth and yawn, "If this was a situation in a book and I read it, I'd probably be rooting for you." Then I close my eyes and become still.

From that point on I trick him into believing I'm asleep, something I have a talent for. I toss a bit, and every time one of my forming bruises makes contact with him I groan softly. That's how I know he's not asleep; every time he loosens his hold on me, trying to make me comfortable. Then I let out a particularly pitiful moan and he pulls me closer, kissing the top of my head a few times and whispering repeatedly, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." After that pathetic display, I stay silent and he eventually begins to snore softly. I soon become comfortable enough to sleep as well.

* * *

><p>I wake up maybe an hour later and we've both moved around in the most awkward of ways. I'm now face down, straddling him with my face leaning on his chest and while one of his hands is thrown to the side, the other's on my ass. I prop myself up and shake him awake.<p>

"Roger," I whisper, "Roger get up." He blinks his eyes open, looks around, then smirks as he notices our unfortunate positioning.

"We should fall asleep together more often," he says, giving my no-no zone a squeeze. I jump, then roll my eyes.

"Can you not be a pig for ten seconds?" I ask. He sighs.

"All right, what do you want?" I shiver slightly.

"It's cold, and I'm tired. Can you please take me back to my cave? I left your jacket there and I don't want to sleep in the woods anymore." He sighs again, lifts me off his lap, and stands.

"Fine, let's go." He picks me up and carries me bridal style back to Castle Rock. He doesn't say a word to me but wraps my arms around his neck.

When we get to mine and Ralph's cave, he stes me down carfully and kisses my cheek gently, lingering for a moment or two. As he crouches, I grab him by his now-long hair and whisper, "Don't you dare think I give a damn about you because of what I said back there." He smirks.

"Feisty," he says. 'I like it." He snaps his teeth and snarls. Then he glances at Ralph, who's watching in disgust. "You know, if you're gonna screw your dead buddy's girlfriend, I'd do it now. It'd suck to die a virgin." And with that lovely farewell, he stalks out. Once he's gone, I allow myself to break down crying while Samneric and Ralph watch uncomfortably, unsure what to do. After a short period of awkwardness, Ralph crawls over and envelopes me in a brotherly hug.

****If you marry me,**  
><strong>Would you bury me?<strong>  
><strong>Would you carry me to the end?<strong>**

"What'd he do?" he asks softly. I sniffle.

"Nothing more than usual. But Ralph-" I say, looking up at him urgently. "he says it's tomorrow. For both of us." I feel Ralph stop breathing briefly, then he squeezes his eyes shut and breathes in deeply.

"We'll be all right," he says again the promise he's failed to keep since the beginning. "We'll get away and it'll be all right." I nod despite the wrenching in my gut that tells me otherwise. We sit there for ten silent minutes with our breath fogging in front of our faces and me counting the seconds as they go by. '600,' I think as the twins finally speak up.

"Give it another minute," Sam says.

"Or two," Eric adds. Sam nods his agreement.

"Or two."

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5... _Ralph sneezes. Eric shuffles his feet slightly. I whisper, "God bless you," and the twins murmur the same.

_30, 31, 32, 33... _A ghostly breeze runs the perimeter of the cave, tucking into the crevices and shooting back out at us. I shiver and pull Roger's jacket around myself.

The first minute passes and I elbow Ralph to let him know. He holds his fist out to Samneric with his thumb stuck out in the neutral position. They shake their heads and Eric holds up an index finger to show us to wait another minute. We do so and I continue to count. Ten seconds and I shiver from the cold once again, pulling the jacket tighter around me. Twenty and Eric has sunk to the cave floor, leaning back against the wall. Forty five and his brother does the same. Finally, the seconds tick down to sixty and Ralph looks to them hopefully. They nod.

"Should be-"

"-fine now," they say. Ralph goes over and shakes each of their hands, which they smirk at but don't comment on. He murmurs his thanks and then returns to me, picking me up off the ground and sweeping an arm under my knees to carry me bridal style. He walks over with some ease to the end of the cave, gives the twins one more glance and a nod, then turns and exits. For a moment I see Eric waving to me sadly, and then he disappears from sight.

I rest my head on Ralph's shoulder as he creeps along in the darkness, darting from shadow to shadow and stepping so softly you'd think he expected the ground to break. I can feel his arms trembling slightly, maybe from the cold but probably from the strain of having to bear my weight. I'm not heavy, but he's not as strong as he used to be. He's especially careful when he passes Jack's cave. The entire time he's crept along slowly, too afraid to make sound, but when he reaches this particualr place he sprints across the opening of the cave and into the woods. I can feel his heart racing faster and tighten my hold on him, hoping to calm him down. Eventually he reaches the bottom of the hill beneath Castle Rock and helps me crawl under a bush.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I just need a break. I'm not really up to what I used to be able to do. This would've been a breeze a few months ago." I give him a half-smile.

"It's all right. We both could use some rest, why don't we just sleep here tonight?" I suggest. He looks hesitant, and I continue to explain. "They'll assume we tried to get as far away as possible, they'll never check here. At least not at first. Besides, there's food!" I reach up and pluck some berries from the branches above our heads.

"Erin!" he hisses. "Don't eat that, it could be poisonous!"

"Relax," I say, popping one in my mouth and holding out the rest of the handful to him. "Whenever we had firewatch, Simon, Danny and I-" I break off, suddenly remember cool summer nights at the top of the mountain, sitting and laughing with Danny by my side and curling up next to Simon. I remember the laughing, the jokes, the feeling of being untouchable. Things they won't know again. Ralph smiles comfortingly, understanding my sudden silence, and takes the berries with one hand and squeezes my own hands with the other.

****(So say goodbye) to the vows you take**  
><strong>(And say goodbye) to the life you make<strong>  
><strong>(And say goodbye) to the heart you break<strong>  
><strong>And all the cyanide you drank.<strong>**

"Thanks," he says softly. After a while I shiver and he pulls me into a hug, trying to keep me warm. I curl up against him.

"What do you thinks going to happen tomorrow?" I ask, even though I already know. I know that Jack will come for us in the morning, and I know that after finding that I'm not with Roger, he'll send out all the hunters on a manhunt for us. I know that if we're caught, Ralph will die and my life will stay the hell it is. I know he can't have good news. But he smiles down at me all the same.

"Tomorrow we'll be free of them," he says like it's more than belief, but truth. I smile back.

"Won't that be the day." We're silent from that point on, and in only moments, we're both asleep.

* * *

><p>I wake up in the morning to the sounds of yelling up at Castle Rock.<p>

"Hey you! Get over here and help us!"

"Would you stop that?!"

"Shush!"

"Maurice, quit screwing around and help us out over here!"

"Would you all just shut up!" This voice carries authority over the other chaotic cries. Jack. "If they're anywhere near here, they'll hear you!" I sit up a little and turn to shake Ralph awake. He's already up, however, and holds a finger to his lips to keep me quiet.

"What are they doing?" I mouth. He just shrugs and mouths back, "No clue."

"On my count!" Jack says. "1, 2, 3!" There's rumbling and crashing and I'm sticking my head out of the bush to see what's going on when Ralph grabs me by the waist and yanks me back just before a boulder crashes through where I had just been. I barely hold in a squeak of shock. Ralph rubs my arm comfortingly.

"It's okay, you're fine," he whispers. The voices up ahead fade away and I look in confusion to Ralph. The look on his face is one of sheer terror. "They're coming.

****She keeps a picture of the body she lends.**  
><strong>Got nasty blisters from the money she spends.<strong>  
><strong>She's got a life of her own and it shows by the Benz<strong>  
><strong>She drives at 90 by the Barbies and Kens.<strong>  
><strong>If you ever say never too late.<strong>**

The boys are silent when they descend from their fortress, not making a sound when they tread barefoot over rocky terrain and twigs and branches. Their feet are soundless padding over the dirt, their voices only a faint trace of a sound that the wind can barely carry to us. I glance between the spaces in the branches and leaves to see what I can of them, which isn't much. They spread out from the bottom of the hill and with their paint, they're nearly invisible among the branches and brambles. And then for a few minutes, they are gone. I tremble despite the heat and being huddled in Ralph's arms. Minutes drag on for what feel like hours and I can't stand the anxiety building in my chest when I see a flash of ice out of the corner of my eye. I glance up through the branches and my eyes catch on a boy, distinguished from the forest around him by pale freckled skin, greasy red hair, and ice blue eyes. There's only three people on the island with blue eyes, and two of them are huddled in a bush. It could only be Jack who stands just a few feet from our hiding place. I watch closely as his eyes scan the forest, picking up every detail of a place he already knows like the back of his hand. My breath has nearly stopped while my heart continues to pound faster and faster, and then nearly stops all together when his eyes meet my own. I squeeze them shut as quickly as I can, but I have a feeling the damage has already been done.

"Roger, look over here," Jack says softly. I open my eye just a crack and am surprised to see Roger by his side, where he's probably been this entire time. His hair and darker skin tone allow him to blend into the woods much better than his friend. Roger looks to where Jack is pointing at us and chuckles.

"I've got it." He approaches the bush, adjusting his grip on his weapon, and then thrusts his spear in between the branches at us. Ralph pulls me back with one hand and latches onto the end of the spear with the other. It takes a moment of pulling, but he snatches it awa and jabs it back in Roger's direction, catching him in the side. Ralph pulls it back in, gathers me into his arm, then stands and takes off running. Thanks to his quick thinking, we have a lead on Jack and Roger, who are still in that section of the woods flipping shit about Roger's wound.

Ralph is careful to change directions quickly and often when he runs through the woods, hoping to make it difficult for them to follow us. He's breathing heavily and locks his jaw to keep from panting. After a few minutes, we hear footfalls not far off and he darts behind the first thing he sees- in this case, a rather large boulder. He throws himself to the ground in order to get out of sight immediately, and ends up crashing on top of me. Since I'm one lucky bitch, I land on my broken leg and have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out. My eyes water and tears pour down my face. Ralph curses silently.

****I'll forget all the diamonds you ate.**  
><strong>Lost in coma and covered in cake.<strong>  
><strong>Increase the medication.<strong>  
><strong>Share the vows at the wake.<strong>  
><strong>(Kiss the bride)<strong>**

"Sorry, sorry!" He curses again, more profusely this time.

"It's fine, just be quiet," I whisper back. He shuts up and I begin to chew my lower lip. I don't hear a sound, but I can feel it, if it makes any sense. I know that any moment, they'll come and all of this will be pointless. Ralph will be dead, and I'll be left defenseless against what they wanted my life to be.

"You go that way, I'll go around here," I hear Jack say, much too close to our hiding spot for comfort.

"Ralph," I start. He shushes me. "_Ralph," _I try again. This time he puts his hand over my mouth. Agitated, I slap him and he draws back. "God damn it, listen to me." His eyes widen at my urgency, and he nods at me to continue. "We're not both getting out of here." A concerned expression crosses his face and he crawls toward me, meaning to comfort me.

"That's not-"

"Ralph, it's true and you know it. You're just too damn good to leave me. I respect that and all, but it's too late for chivalry. I was doomed from the moment i fell from that tree, but it's not too late for you. I'll give myself up to Jack or Roger, whichever comes first, and I'll distract him long enough for you to take off," I begin explaining.

"You can't just expect me to let you do that for me!" he protests.

**If you marry me,**  
><strong>Would you bury me?<strong>  
><strong>Would you carry me to the end?<strong>

"I can expect it, and you will do it," I say sternly. "I had my chance and it's passed. You, and Danny, and," I swallow hard and choke out the name, "Simon have been sticking your necks out for me from the beginning, and look where that's landed us. The hunters want me too much to let me go, and they'll always be on our backs. Simon and Danny died because of me, and Willie too if you think about it, and I'm _not _going to let it happen again. Either you let me do this, or I give myself up all the same and they find you because you were too stubborn to leave. This is your only chance to survive Ralph, you've got to trust me on this." He gulps and nods solemnly, squeezing his eyes shut. I take a deep breath to fight away my fears of my coming fate. "All right. In a matter of minutes one of them will get here, and I'm going to crawl out and make it seem like you left me behind. You should be able to get away, and they'll take me back to Castle Rock. They won't be able to find you once my dead weight's off your back. But from that point on you can't come back. Forget about whatever you think you owe me or Simon, because Simon's dead and we both know I'm too damn important for taking care of their 'special needs' to get rid of," I close my eyes to clear the blurring and breathe in deeply before speaking again. "I'll live."

"If this goes right, and if we don't get rescued, this will be the last time we see each other, won't it be?" Ralph says quietly. I nod and he traps me in a hug. I'm shocked at first, but I bury my face in his neck.

"I think- I _am _going to miss you," I whisper. He hugs me tighter.

"I'm sorry I didn't do better." Being the awkward people we are, we don't talk again after that, but we don't move out of our hug either. His presence reminds me of all the things I forgot to miss, and reminds me why I deserve this after my selfishness.

Having him here reminds me that in all this time, in all my wishing for my sister and my friends and cupcakes, I forgot to miss my own brother.

_I'm sorry Jacky, _I think guiltily. Just then, I hear the light steps of an approaching hunter and swallow. It's time.

**(So say goodbye) to the vows you take  
>(And say goodbye) to the life you make<br>(And say goodbye) to the heart you break  
>And all the cyanide you drank.<strong>

(And say goodbye) to the last parade  
>(And walk away) from the choice you made<br>(And say goodnight) to the heart you break  
>And all the cyanide you drank.<p>

"You know what to do?" I ask as quietly as possible. He nods and I look at the ground. "Then this is goodbye." I meet his eyes again and know that these are the last kind ones I'll see for a long time, maybe forever. Overcome by a sudden urge, I grab his face in my hands and press my lips to his. I'm not sure why I did it, maybe to thank him, maybe because it'll be the last time I kiss someone willingly, maybe because I know if life continues this way the poor guy will never get laid. All I know is that I've done it, and when I pull away, I don't really regret it or feel any desire to do it again. "Sorry. I just thought I needed to kiss someone I actually care about before I enter the life of total whoredom." My actions and statement bring a whole new breed of awkward to the world. "So, uh. Bye." He waves, staring in sort of a dazed way, and I limp out from behind the rock. My head is hung so that I can fake surprise when I see someone standing there, but the "Oh, shit!" I exclaim when I see Roger standing there is no act.

"Found the skank," he murmurs, marching over and giving my shoulder a strong yank. I cry out and he rolls his eyes. "Where's your boyfriend?"

"I d-dunno. He couldn't carry me anymore, so he left me b-back there," I lie, faking my stammer. Roger chuckles.

"I'm not surprised," he replies. He slings my arm around his shoulders and starts pulling me back toward Castle Rock.

"You're n-n-not g-going to tell the other hunters you've f-found me yet, are you?" I say, praying that he will just so Ralph can get away easier. He shakes his head.

"I'd like to have a few words with you first." I swallow hard, knowing that in Roger's mind, 'words' always mean actions. I try to make as much noise as possible as he helps me stumble along so that if Ralph runs for it now, Roger won't be able to hear him. It works out well, because when I sneak a glance back at where we'd been hiding, he's gone. In my relief, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. However, this relief doesn't last long, because the moment we enter a clearing, Roger drops back into old habits and slams me back against a tree.

"You really thought you could get away didn't you?" he asks, laughing. I begin trembling and squeeze my eyes shut, his closeness making me uncomfortable. "You honestly thought that your little plan would help Ralph get away." My eyes snap open and I look at him.

"How did you-"

"How did I know? I was standing right there Shitbrains, and you're really not a talented whisperer. And now, thanks to Maurice insisting on being my 'hunting buddy,' Jack knows too, and he's waiting for Ralph in the next clearing," he explains mockingly.

**(So say goodbye) to the vows you take  
>(And say goodbye) to the life you make<br>(And say goodbye) to the heart you break  
>And all the cyanide you drank.<strong>

(And say goodbye) to the last parade  
>(And walk away) from the choice you made<br>(And say goodnight) to the heart you break  
>And all the cyanide you drank<p>

"B-but I only heard one set of footsteps," I say, refusing to believe that my plan has practically got Ralph killed.

"Maurice's," he says simply. "You know better than to think I make noise when I walk. I've snuck up on you enough times for you to know that." I curse, knowing that he's right. Suddenly he slaps me. "You filthy little slut," he mutters. "You know, I don't understand you. You were going to have it easy compared to your buddies. You're going to get to live, and after a few days of Jack's 'sharing is caring' plan, you'd only have to put up with two of us. Would that really be so bad?" I begin to stammer again.

"I'm C-Catholic. I b-believe in abstinence," I say meekly. He laughs again.

"And I suppose whores and gays go to hell?" he teases. "It's old fashioned Erin. Most Catholics don't even believe that shit anymore. You might as well give up, because it's going to happen and you've known it since the first day I kissed you. Only now, I won't take it easy."

"W-What do you mean?" I ask, not sure I want to know but asking anyway. He suddenly picks me up by the shoulders and throws me down to the ground. I cry out and he laughs, going down on his knees and straddling me. He then pins me there with his elbow across my chest and a hand wrapped around my throat, barely exerting pressure.

"Ralphie boy's gonna die, but first, he's going to see everything that his idiot leadership caused. First he's going to watch as I bleed out the twins, and you will too of course. I won't kill 'em, I need to use them for punishment if you ever do anything wrong again. Then, while their either knocked out or crying in a corner, he'll get a sneak peek of your future. I'm finally going to do what I want with you, and I'm going to make him watch. Then, while you're all bleeding and crying, I'm going to tie you and the twins up, and you're going to watch me take his pretty little head off." I begin sobbing helplessly as he continues to go into the details of his sadistic plan. "Then, just for the hell of it, I'll beat the twins and make you watch that time, and then I'll rape you again and make them watch. And then it'll happen again, just because I want a little privacy at least once. How's this all sound?"

"You're sick," I say, glaring and spitting in his face. He slaps me and then uses his knife to slice my left wrist open. Then he leans in close.

"I am a fucking _god." _He's leaning in toward me when I suddenly hear a crack and Roger crashes on top of me. THen he groans as someone kicks him in the side and pushes him off me.

"You know, for a god, you're pretty fugly," Ralph says, slamming him baseball-style with the end of his spear again. Once it's pretty clear Roger won't be getting up for a while. He picks me up off the ground and holds me bridal-style again.

"What are you doing here," I say, almost angrily. "You were supposed to run for it."

"You obviously don't know me Erin. I knew all along I was gonna do that, although the kickass quote back there was an added bonus," he says, picking up in a run.

**To the last parade**  
><strong>When the parties fade<strong>  
><strong>And the choice you made<strong>

It actually seems like we might get away all right when suddenly, we hear Roger yell, "Over here, they're getting away!" That's when all hell breaks loose. Hunters jump out at us from all sides and run at us like demons. Ralph has gone into full on defensive mode, shoving even the littluns to the ground and trampling them if they try to catch us; I try to do my part as well, punching or kicking anyone who gets too close. However, they continue to get back up, completely unaffected, and pursue us. Ralph manages to keep a good lead, but soon they've chased us out to the beach and there's nowhere to hide. Ralph continues to sprint, but his energy is obviously depleting and there's nothing to duck behind. Soon, he risks a glance behind us and does exactly what I did that first day here- he crashes to the ground. And as hard as he tries, he can't stand. We share a glance and we both know that it's officially over, but since it feels wrong to give up so easily, we continue to crawl backwards, never taking our eyes off them, and suddenly Ralph stops dead. I look over and see that his hand is on a shoe, and instantly begin freaking out.

Depite the protest from my broken leg, I push myself back towards the hunters, never taking my eyes off the man in front of me. _Can't trust him, don't trust him, can't trust him, _the instinctive part of my mind urges me to escape, to get away from there as soon as possible. But then the rational part of my brain kicks in and I realize, I really have no reason to fear a naval officer. He looks from face to face in confusion for a while, then eventually speaks up.

"What were you guys doing?" No one has a response to this. Instead, Ralph, most of the littluns, Maurice, for whatever reason, and I all break out sobbing simultaneously. I crawl over to Ralph and smack him.

"What was that for?!" he exclaims in shock.

"Real men don't cry," I say, sniffling and wiping away my own tears. Then, we both realize the same thing and he hugs me. "We're going home," I whisper. "We're actually going home."

**To the End.**

* * *

><p><strong>Daaaaaaamn, 6,423 words! I've never broken 6,000 before! I'm glad you were all here for this historic moment. You know, I'm not really pleased with that ending. But I've got the end of the last chapter planned and I think you'll all enjoy it. I was gonna give you a sneak peek of the sequel, Going Under, but I think you've all done enough reading for today. Next chapter maybe. Whatever, hope you guys liked it, pleeeeeeeeasssse review, I need feedback!<strong>

**Oh, and just to clarify, Erin has no romantic feelings for Ralph and vice versa. They have more of a brother/sister relationship. Y'all remember that now**


	27. Charlie Boy

**We are gathered here today, to read the second to last chapter in what once was a youthful, lively story, well loved by friends and family alike. All though it's time on this earth was brief, it will leave a hole in a hearts as if it was here all along.**

**Do you like my funeral style opening? I'm kinda proud of it. I'd do that in the last chapter, but the thing is...Erin isn't featured in the last chapter.  
>Readers: GASP!<br>Hammsters: I went with a different narrator for the epilogue. So yeah, this is the last time you will read her lovely narration until Going Under. Enjoy.**

**Song: Charlie Boy by the Lumineers**

We all stare at the naval officers in disbelief for some time, and they seem just as shocked to see us. God knows why they came, but I guarantee it had nothing to do with finding 30 stranded kids trying to kill each other. Eventually, one of the younger boys speaks up.

"What day is it?" It's a simple question, probably a strange one considering all the things that have happened to us, but I find myself desperate to know the moment he asks.

"It's November 24," the first officer says, still sounding dumbstruck. I smile slightly to myself. _Daddy's birthday, _I think. It occurs to me that this entire time, they've probably assumed I was dead- _if _they survived the crash as well- and I was about to become the best birthday present he's ever gotten. Good for me.

"How long have you been here?" Another, younger officer asks; he can't be much older than my brother.

"June 5," Jack says, somehow resuming his responsible, authoritative tone he'd had when we crashed. "Our plane crashed June 5. We were going to Ireland." The three officers share a look.

"I think these kids were on the Flight 104 crash," the first one says.

"That's impossible!" The third one, who's been silent until now, protests. "They rounded up all those survivors the next day. They were all floating in a raft in the middle of the ocean!" The youngest one shrugs.

"These kids could've floated away. They said there was a storm that night, and I bet a lot more kids than adults would have trouble swimming against that current." I search the back of my mind for some memory of what happened, how we got to this island, what flight we were on, but I draw a blank. The last thing I remember was the plane falling into pieces and something hitting me over the head as the plane hit the water. Thinking back on it, I probably should've drowned that day.

"Look, we can figure this out later. They've been here six months, they're probably sick," the first one whispers in an even lower tone than before. "Are you all okay? Is there anyone sick or injured." Ralph pipes up quickly.

**Charlie boy, don't go to war, first born in forty - four**  
><strong>Kennedy made him believe we could do much more<strong>

"Erin is!" he says. "Over here." The third officer, who's probably in his late thirties, comes over to us and curses.

"Good God, what happened to her?!" He looks around at the boys, but no one responds. Eventually, Jack speaks up.

"She's clumsy. She liked to go off on her own a lot and she always got herself hurt," he replies. A few boys fight a chuckle. _Bastards. _The man sighs.

"We'd best get her to the boat first. We can't get them all on the rowboat at the same time, we should take the sick ones first," he says to his companions.

"We should probably have some of the paler ones checked out. All this time in the sun, look at them." I glance down at my own skin and am shocked to see that under the dried blood and caked on filth, my skin is sickeningly red in most places, dry and peeling everywhere, and blistering or emitting pus in others. I look like I used to imagine lepers. I look around and pick out a few others who are staring at their own angry welts with expressions of nausea. The oldest officer scans the group and picks out the worst of us and points to us each. "You four, what're your names?"

"Ralph Donner."

"Jack Merridew."

"Roger McAllister."

"Erin FitzGerald." They sigh.

"All right, you guys come along," says the first officer. "Jim, you stay behind and figure out who we should bring next, we'll get these kids back." Ralph bends over and hoists me up. "I can carry her son, you don't look like you can go much further with both your weights." He reaches out for me and Ralph steps back.

"All due respect sir, but I can handle it a little longer," he says in a tone that leaves no room for argument. "She doesn't like strangers." The man raises his hands in surrender and leads us to the boat. As we sit down, Roger grabs me by the arm.

"Don't think any of this is over," he says so that no one but I can hear. "You'll never really get away and you know it. Even after all this, you'll be the same person. Weak, scared, fake, useless." He pulls away from me, laughing as the tears come to my eyes. Ralph glares at him and puts an arm around me protectively. I look up and see Jack trying to get one of the officers' attention.

"Sir, my brother-" the officer cuts him off.

"He'll be fine on the beach for a few more minutes," he sighs. Jack shakes his head.

"No, you don't understand he's-"

"I said he'll be fine. You can tell me whatever it is when we get to the infirmary, our priority right now is getting you four medical attention," he says sternly.

"But you don't get it-" The officer drops the oars and turns to look Jack in the eye.

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your brother's going to have to wait. We have half an hour until the change in temperature from being out in the water causes you guys to feel the effects of six months of sun and you will all be in excrutiating pain if we don't get you to a doctor quickly." We all swallow hard and stare at our burns again. He picks up the oars, a guilty expression on his face. "I'm sorry kid, we''re just trying to get you help. I'll make sure your brother's on the next boat, okay?" Jack nods solemnly. "What's his name?"

"Simon," he murmurs, no longer looking at the officer. The man repeats the name to himself and begins rowing again. Jack buries his face in his hands, the full reality of what he's done finally hitting him. His brother's dead, and it's his fault.

**Lillian, don't hang your head, love should make you feel good**  
><strong>In uniform you raised a man, who volunteered to stand<strong>

* * *

><p>I'm the first one to scream when they gingerly lift us off the boat and onto gurneys. As we moved towards the ship a few hundred yards off from the beach, we all felt that familiar scratchy sensation you get just before you feel a sunburn. Then we felt as every moment grew stiff and painful, felt the way the fabric on our skin felt like sandpaper. Now the slightest touch set us each in unbearable pain. Jack curses violently as they help him onto a gurney, Roger howls a forced, painful laugh the way some guys do when they're in pain, and when I look over, Ralph's biting his lower lip so hard it's begun to bleed. Suddenly, the officers' concern for us pale kids makes sense.<p>

They think we've got a skin disease.

Tears stream down my face and although the cool metal of the gurney's sidebars feels heavenly, everywhere on my body that doesn't touch the metal is on fire. People look up in shock as we all literally go screaming past them, and I see one of the younger men freeze at the sight of me. He seems to be familiar to me, someone I almost know but not quite, but when his face is gone from sight I lose whatever connection I thought I had. When we get to the infirmary, the doctors and nurses don't even ask where they found us, they just calmly take every kind of skin lotion in their cabinets and begin applying each to every visible patch of skin. I'm suddenly very thankful to be a girl, because while sun seeped through the remaining scraps of Ralph's shirt and burned him, I had the miracle of a bra underneath my camisole to protect that much of me. Not a lot, but enough to be thankful for.

The infirmary is filled with groaning, high-pitched squeals of pain(which earns Jack a threat to have his mouth taped by Roger), fluent swearing (for which I am reprimanded), and screams of agony as all the doctors do what they can for our wrecked skin. They give us painkillers and apply about three layers of aloe to our skin, and soon enough the pain is irksome, but bearable. That's when the questions begin.

What're your names? What were you doing there? How old are you, how long have you been there, how many of you were there, etcetera etcetera to which we responded: Jack, Erin, Roger, Ralph, playing capture the freaking flag, 13, 13, 14, 14, six months, maybe thirty, maybe forty, and more etceteras. Eventually we heard a knocking at the door and two officers came in: the one from the boat and the young one we'd passed in the halls. The first goes to Jack and begins asking him questions about Simon, which he answers so quietly I can't hear the response, and the younger one walks over to me.

"Erin? Is that you?" I sit up slightly, regret it, and slump down again.

"H-how do you know me?" I ask.

"Don't you recognize me? I'm one of Jack's friends," he says, trying to jog my memory. "You used to call me That Little Guy." It's beginning to sound familiar. "When you were in first grade you used to steal my wallet and take all my coins." That's when it hits me.

"Mark?" He grins, glad to be recognized. I knew he and two of Jack's other friends had joined either the navy or the air force, but I hadn't seen any of them since they enlisted two years before. Despite the gap of time, I'm embarressed for not recognizing him in the first place. "Is Jack okay?" He nods, still grinning.

**Ohhh**  
><strong>Play the bugle, play the taps and<strong>  
><strong>Make your mothers proud<strong>  
><strong>Raise your rifles to the sky boys<strong>  
><strong>Fire that volley loud<strong>

"Yeah, they all got out fine," he says.

"Mr. Randall," the doctor who was treating me interrupts. "I'm glad _someone _can place at least one of these kids, but she's in bad condition and she'll need to rest for a while." Mark nods solemnly.

"Right, right, sorry," he says. "I should probably call her brother anyways and tell him the good news." He grins again. "This is gonna be one helluva call." With that he exits the infirmary.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, the officers are still scrounging the island for any displaced boys, I've got a cast, countless stitches, and a possible surgery being discussed, and the doctors finally agree to let Ralph and I wander the decks- although they do make us wear ridiculous clothes that they insist won't bother our burns. And I am confined to a wheelchair. We're just walking out onto the deck with an officer they sent to show us around when we see that the rowboat is being pulled up again.<p>

"Do you want to keep going?" Ralph asks. I shrug.

"We might as well see who they've got." We watch as the crowded rowboat is pulled up to level and a herd of painted littluns piles out. Then the two officers sling both of a boy's arms around their necks and help him onto the deck. His overgrown black hair is hanging in his face.

"Unconscious still," one officer remarks to a friend that's been waiting on deck. The other scratches his head, looking around at everyone on deck in absolute confusion.

"What the hell were they doing to each other?" There's yelling and a mob of hunters appears on the deck as well, all of them staring at the boy guiltily.

"Let me through!" someone yells, pushing from the back of the group to the front; it's Jack. The officers try to stop him when he approaches. "Let me through god damn it! That's my brother!" Both Ralph and I freeze and our eyes stop on the boy, who's beginning to stir. There are gashes in his side, blood stains coating his black and blue skin, and he's almost in as bad shape as me, but his chest is moving in and out. He's breathing.

Simon is right in front of us. Breathing.

That's when I hurl on Ralph's shoes and proceed to black out.

**News was bad on upland ave., metuchen mourn our loss**  
><strong>Sons rebelled, while fathers yelled, and mothers clutched the cross<strong>

* * *

><p>When I wake up I learn that I've been out like a light for eighteen hours, and they were worried I'd gone into a coma. Under different circumstances I might've been worried, but even when I was healthy I was known to sleep up to seventeen hours straight and wake up starving but in a great mood. However, when I wake up this time, I'm not hungry, and I'm more confused than anything else. The doctors begin to blather to me about my condition; I'm thrity pounds underweight, I've developed a protein deficiency, there's severe trauma to my something cortex, I've experienced major blood loss, I have three broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and my fibula has been bent at an unnatural angle and I'll probably be in a wheel chair for at least three months, and a cast for much more. However, I know what none of this means, and as soon as they're done explaining, they're shocked to know that my only question pretains to where I can take a shower and find a change of clothes.<p>

After recovering from their shock, one of the nurses helps me into a wheelchair and says I can use her bathrrom until I get my own room or they get me back to my family- whichever comes first. She also says her roommate is around my size and could probably lend me a change of clothes. I nod quietly and she wheels me through the halls. As we go, I overhear many crewmembers talking about us in hushed tones.

"It's awful what happened to these kids," one man right outside the infirmary says.

"One of the doctors told me they're testing one of the boys for skin cancer tomorrow," his companion replies.

"The redhead or the blonde?"

"Neither. The dark haired one." I shudder. Roger may be an evil prick, but I'd be lying if I said I liked the idea of him dying of cancer. Then there are the women onboard the ship, who seem to prefer arguing about whether or not I'm a slut.

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if she's been sleeping with that blonde kid, Ralph," one woman says as we turn onto a different hallway.

"Maggie! She's only thirteen!" her friend scolds her.

"My neighbor's daughter got pregnant when she was twelve," the first woman says.

"And besides, did you see the way he followed her like a puppy dog?"

"I say if she was screwing anyone it was that other kid. Roger? Was that his name?" another woman offers. "You guys saw how he was the first to visit her and the last to leave when she passed out." The women silence themselves when they see me and the nurse coming, but start giggling like teenagers after we pass them.

"I'm sorry about them," the nurse says when we're out of hearing distance. "There's not much to talk about in the navy, those four take what they can get."

"It's fine," I say, my voice hoarse. We both stay silent until we get to her room. She rummages through a dresser and pulls out a button down top and a pair of skinny jeans.

"Will this be okay?" she asks. I nod. "All right, you can shower or take a bath, whichever you prefer, there's towels in there, shampoo and soap- you don't have any allergies right? I'll go find you a brush for your hair, is there anything else you need?" I shake my head. "All right then. I'll be right back." She exits the room and I manage to get out of the chair and limp into the bathroom. The bathroom isn't particularly interesting, beige walls and a white sink, toilet, and bathtub. The thing that catches my eye is a full length mirror opposite me.

It's the first time I've seen my reflection clearly in six months, and I can't say it's a pretty one. My hair is below my ribs now, instead of ending at my shoulders, and it's greasy, knotted and falling out in some places. My face is caked in dirt and my own blood, colored purple, black and blue with bruises and with thin white scars barely visible beneath the blood. My eyes are set deeper back in my hollow face than I remember them being, and the vibrant blue they once were has faded to a stony gray surrounded by the red where the whites of my eyes should be. My face all together is guant and empty, the skeleton of a girl long gone. The rest of my body isn't any better. I can wrap a hand around even the thickest parts of my arms and legs, my ribs are visible beneath the torn camisole, and there's and ugly blackened gash at the very center of my stomach, stitched up horribly by the black threads of Roger's cloak. I can hardly recognize myself.

I blink quickly to fight back tears at the sight of my reflection. I'm not that vain, I can't be that vain! I wipe away the tears that sneak past and smudge the mud across my cheeks even more. Frustrated, I strip down and turn on the faucet for both the shower and the bath tub and sit down in the tub, using the shower to wash my hair while the tub fills. My fingers get caught up in curls and tangles and kinks, and it takes at least a half hour to rake my hands through all of them before I can actually wash my hair. By that time, the tub is filled and it's already murky. I sigh and lay back, thinking.

_They're testing one of the boys for skin cancer tomorrow._

_Well I wouldn't be surprised if she's been sleeping with that blonde kid, Ralph._

_I say if she was screwing anyone it was that other kid. Roger? Was that his name?_

The gossip floats back into my memory, followed by Roger's stinging words.

_You'll never really get away and you know it. Even after all this, you'll be the same person. Weak, scared, fake, useless.\_

It's these words that hurt me the most, although I'm not sure why. He's certainly said worse. I begin to think about this, and what my life will be like now. There'll be more gossip, more people thinking I'm just a little slut. Apparently I've slept with Roger and Ralph, I'm sure the press will be more than happy to throw Jack, or Simon, or hell, even Maurice in there. Roger's right about my weakness, and all those other things. I've always been weak, but after this? I'm a disaster. What'll I do when Ralph is in Springfield and can't protect me? When Simon is? I'll never be able to be the same girl. I threw up at the very sight of Simon, what about when I see my friends? That is, if I can even catch up fast enough to rejoin my grade.

I feel that emptiness at the pit of my stomach that I felt in the cave on Castle Rock, and earlier than that when I was tied to that rock. What else is left for me? How can I come back from this.

"Stop it," I whisper. I can't be thinking this, can I? People that act on these thoughts, don't they go to hell? I sink my head under the water to clear my thoughts, but once I'm under, I feel the seconds tick by and don't come back up.

I'm not sure how long I stay under, but I know my vision is beginning to blur, my heart speeds and slows, and I feel weightless. It's not so bad, not nearly as bad as I expected.

"Erin!" the nurse calls through the door, knocking. I pop out of the water, gasping for air. "They're serving food for all the boys in the cafeteria in a few minutes, I can take you there whenever you're ready." I manage to pull in enough air to reply.

"Just give me a second!" I call back out. In minutes, I've washed away all the grime, dressed myself, combed through my hair again, and I'm out the door.

* * *

><p>When I got there, Simon and Ralph were sitting together, Simon in a wheelchair like me. When I got to them I hugged him, but pulled back awkwardly when he tried to kiss me. We talked for a bit about what had happened to him and to me and Ralph.<p>

"They had me in the cave the whole time. Jack turned his knife and knocked me with the handle at the last second. I was knocked out and they dragged me back. When I came to, they told me they'd killed you guys, and keeping me alive was my punishment for trying to bust you out," he says softly. "If I'd known you were okay..." he trailed off, reaching over and squeezing my hand. "But we're all okay now." I offer him a forced smile and look down at my plate.

I don't remember much else of our discussion in the cafeteria. All I remember is that I felt like everyone was staring at me, even when they weren't. I felt like somehow, everyone knew I'd tried again, even though they didn't know I'd tried to die on the island. And all I can think is, how could I do that to my family? In addition I wonder what I'm going to tell Simon if he tries to keep the relationship going. I only glance up from the food I never got around to eating when Simon nudges me.

**Ohhh**  
><strong>Play the bugle, play the taps and<strong>  
><strong>Make your fathers proud<strong>  
><strong>Raise your rifles to the sky boys<strong>  
><strong>Fire that volley loud<strong>

"Erin? Are you all right?" he asks. I nod quickly.

"I'm fine," I murmur.

"As I was saying," Ralph says slowly. "We should decide now what our story is, if anyone asks. Are we going to tell anyone what actually happened?" Simon shrugs and Ralph looks to me. "Erin, you got the worst of everything. If you want to come forward, we'll be with you the whole time." I pause for a moment before answering._ Roger could have cancer, _I think, running through the facts, _Jack couldn't bring himself to kill his brother. He cared enough to send them back for Simon. _Simon and Ralph stare at me, looking impatient for an answer. _It'll be hard enough for us to get past this, what about them? We are only kids... _"Erin?" Ralph asks, making sure I haven't zoned out. I pull back in my chair and stand.

"I just want to forget." And with those as my parting words, I exit the cafeteria.

* * *

><p>A week later, we're all beginning to look better. My burn no longer sears like it did that first day, and my scars are beginning to fade. They found that Roger did not have cancer, but it was a close call and they would still be keeping an eye on him. The press has been holding up the phone lines asking questions ever since it got out that they found us, but the officers don't answer them. And now today, they've docked somehwere in England, and all our families have flown out to get us. Today is most likely the last time I will see any of these boys.<p>

I'm currently hobbling along the deck, waiting with unbelievable impatience for my family to come. It's surreal to me that I'm actually going to see them again, and I need it to happen soon before I begin to wonder if this is all in my head. Every now and then, I jump back into the wheelchair I'm not supposed to leave for the next few months if I hear someone coming. If the nurses catch me out of the chair one more time they're going to strap me in, and then how am I supposed to pace?

Suddenly, I hear footsteps behind me and fling myself at the chair. However, since I am ridiculously uncoordinated, I miss the chair all together and land on my rear on the deck. My tailbone kills and I squeak slightly, but manage to pull myself into the chair before the person comes into view. I sigh when I see that the person strolling down the deck, whistling House of Wolves, is Roger. He laughs when he sees me, out of breath and slumped in the chair.

"Relax shit for brains, the medical police aren't here for you yet," he says mockingly. I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, no shit," I reply. I cross my arms over my chest and look away sharply, hoping that he'll leave, but that prick just sits down on the deck next to me. "Can I help you?" He just grins up at me and shrugs. "Playing dumb? I thought that was Maurice's thing." He snorts and continues to stare at me. I groan. "What the hell are you looking at?" He shrugs again.

"I kinda forgot that _this _is what you look like," he replies. I sink lower in my chair, knowing that I looked much better before the island, before him. However, I can see where it would seem strange to him. Looking at him, I find it hard notn to try to take in details. The boys all got their hands on scissors and chopped their hair off as best as they could, and now his black-ish brown hair hangs in his eyes on the right side, but is shorter everywhere else. I can't decide if he was going for a sort of emo style with the choppy hair, or if he just got lazy. Either way, it actually looks kind of good. Without his paint, he's rather pale, and his skin is red and brown wherever the paint didn't cover his face. His skin is still darker than mine though, especially around his eyes, where there's a ring of darker skin on the lids and underneath. I'd forgotten about that detail. He, like all the other choir boys, has patched up his old uniform and is wearing it again, the wholly black outfit making a stark contrast against his skin. He even salvaged what was left of his cape. Altogether, the boy before me dressed in a black blazer, black pants, a black cape, and red tie is a major difference from the boy I know. Too safe. Too..._family friendly. _

"I guess I forgot too," I say. "About you I mean." I recall my words from a week ago. _You're pretty. _It's truer now than it had been then, and the thought sends blood flooding to my face. I stand and begin hobbling around again. I must look pretty strange pacing with my leg in a full cast, but I don't care. I can't look at him anymore.

"Erin," he says resignedly. I don't answer, but continue my pacing. "Erin," he repeats. I still pretend not to hear him. "Oh for Christ's sake!" He grabs me by the shoulders and makes me face him. "Look, I came here for a reason you know." I sigh.

"And what is that?" I ask impatiently.

"Look, I'm a creep, I get that. And I know I'm probably not quite right in the head, but," he takes a deep breath, "that doesn't give me an excuse for treating you the way I did on the island. And since I'm not going to see you again, I want to get it out there, that I'm _really _sorry." He ducks his head slightly, but looks up at me through his bangs with a meak, charming smile. "What do you say? Do you think you'll ever forgive me?" Roger McAllistor is the most gorgeous boy I've ever met, and probably the most gorgeous boy I ever will meet. All other guys I know of pale in comparison, so you can understand why that smile tempts me to let it all go. But I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my hands into fists at my side.

"You want to know what I have to say Roger?" I say, smiling through clenched teeth. He smiles a bit wider and nods. Just as he lifts his head up to look at me straight on, I pull my hand back and then swing it at him, punching him squarely in the nose. He immediately jumps back and bends over, clutching his now bleeding nose for dear life. "I say fuck you!" It's then that I hear an all too familiar gasp behind me. I squeeze my eyes shut, crinkle my nose, and murmur, "They're behind me aren't they?" No one moves and it's silent for a bit, then I hear both a high-pitched, girlish laugh, and an approving lower one. My Jacky and Alaina's laughs.

"Erin FitzGerald-" my mom starts. Even after six months thinking I was dead, she's prepared to nag.

"Way to go babe!" My sister laughs. I turn around and the moment I do she's launched herself at me and grabbed me in a hug. I groan and stumble back. Alaina takes one look at my leg and inhales sharply. "Jeez Louise Erin, and I thought _I _was clumsy." She helps me over to my wheelchair and then begins wheeling me down the boarding plank off the ship.

"Alaina, we have to get her stuff," my dad reminds her.

"We'll meet you by the car," she replies. My parents both sigh, but let us go. As she wheels me down, Alaina says, "It seems like we've got _a lot _to talk about."

"My hand hurts," I whimper. She pats me on the head.

"I know baby, I know."

_They said all..._

**Yeah. Last three words are the beginning of the refrain of Teenagers. I was trying to be artsy and failed epicly, but I thought I'd share my failness with you. I hope you enjoyed it. Gah, I can't believe this story is almost over! So upsetting! I'm sorry about all the melodrama, but I need her to be kind of slowly losing it as time goes on or else nothing in Going Under will make sense. Speaking of which...ROLL THE CLIP!**

_Roger hops off the stage looking pretty damn proud of himself as our female classmates and Seamus McIntyre swarm him. Our music teacher looks flustered by the performances, and probably regrets choosing to let Roger go last. Next year she'll be listening to the songs before allowing students to do their performances. Roger looks unphased by the snobby fourteen year old girls (and Seamus) fangirling over him and just struts over to where the other guys are talking by the entrance to the gym. Every girl sighs as he passes but he doesn't acknowledge that there's anyone else in the room until he passes me and gives me a nod and a smile. I roll my eyes and look away sharply. _Weak. _I mentally scold myself for recalling his words once again. The girls (and Seamus) now switch their attention from Roger to me._

_"Oh. Em. Gee.," Cara Sanders says. "He _totes _just gave you the nod."_

_"Out of all of us, he's chosen to give the nod to you, you lucky bitch!" Lissa squeals._

_"Did you guys, you know, have a thing on the island?" Dani asks. I roll my eyes at them._

_"Oh my god, they totally did!" Seamus exclaims. The girls all squeal._

_"You must be, like, on Cloud 9 right now," Cara says. I clench my teeth and roll my hands in to balls, running a finger over the thin scars in both my palms as they're clenched._

_"Oh yeah," I say through my teeth. "Over the fucking moon." With that I march out of the gym, despite the fact I'll get in trouble for leaving without the teacher's permission._

**Yeah, I know it's short and anti-climatic, but I couldn't give away anything important, so this is all I could give you. Sorry! But hey, in a few weeks, you'll actually be reading Going Under! So make do with this until then, all right? All right. Pleeeeeeaaase review, you guys have been so good about it lately, keep up the streak!**


	28. Epilogue: Cancer

**Hey guys! I'm quite sad to say this buuut, THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER OF TEENAGERS FOREVER! And I am truly, deeply upset by this. I've been writing this since the end of seventh grade, since the beginning of my FanFiction career, and now it's coming to an end. But, I've done my best to bring you guys this epilogue which I have been writing for three months now just to make sure I got it just right and i hope you guys all like it!**

**Song: Cancer by My Chemical Romance**

**Warning: This is severely depressing, character death, whole shebang. Also, bold is the song, italicized is following what Roger's doing after he's finished the letter, print is the letter itself. It might be confusing, so if you find it hard to follow, you can read the letter all at once and the narration after, or vice versa. Whatever works best for you**

Dear.

That's all I'll begin this long overdue letter with, 1) because I still feel regret writing it, maybe even grief, even after all these years and, 2) because I think you and I both know who you are. Ther's two words that I think can explain this all: I'm sorry.

* * *

><p><em>It was a cold December day when press surrounded the Loyola Hospital to provide coverage of the sickly island boy's last adventure. He was hardly the boy the world had known him as, his skin translucent, his head bald and shiny, and coddling nurses bobbing around him as if worried the slightest touch would be the end of him. In his hand were two or three sheets of paper, scribbled on in messy writing, yellowed with age, stained with coffee, vomit, and blood from being in his hands every day for the last two years, the worst of his life.<em>

**Turn away  
>If you could get me a drink of water<br>'Cause my lips are chapped and faded**  
><strong>Call my Aunt Marie<br>Help her gather all my things  
>And bury me in all my favorite colors<br>My sisters and my brothers, still**

* * *

><p><strong>I will not kiss you'<br>Cause the hardest part of this  
>Is leaving you<strong>

You know, that might be the first time I've ever said that and meant it. Hats off to you for breaking me. Of course, you wouldn't believe me when I say this, or at least, you shouldn't. My therapist, Dr. Charles Danner- sound familiar?- says that I'm incapable of feeling remorse. He also said, off the record, that even if I could be sorry, even someone as nice as you wouldn't forgive me after all I did. He had a particular fondness for you, so you can imagine he wasn't thrilled to get me for a patient. Anyway, if it were anyone else but you we were talking about, I'd believe it, but you always said you couldn't stay made at someone more than five minutes. Once I asked you why, and you just said it took too much effort. I'll never understand that myself, but we're two very different people, aren't we?

* * *

><p><em>His hands were thin and shaking, and a young boy of maybe 17 or 18 was at his side assissting him down the stairs and fretting over every bump and turn of the path. The sicklier of the two rolled his eyes every time his companion opened his mouth, and sent a pathetic glare in the direction of every reporter attempting to get his attention. Fed up, he eventually hollered at them, "Can't you get the message?! Fuck the hell off!" Then he tipped his hat to them and smiled. "I have a delivery to make." At this last phrase, he waved the papers in the air.<em>

**Now turn away  
>'Cause I'm awful just to see<br>'Cause all my hair's abandoned all my body**  
><strong>Oh, my agony<br>Know that I will never marry  
>Baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo<br>But counting down the days to go**

* * *

><p>You might wonder why I'm writing this so many years after your accident. Miles used to think I was stupid and stubborn for calling it that, for not accepting your current state. But then along came cancer, and now he worries which words will be the last he says to me. Stupid bastard, as if I care what he says.<p>

You know, I spent quite some time in prison thinking about what I'd say to you if I ever got the chance. Then they took me out when they found out about my tumor and I spent a little more time thinking about it. Believe it or not, it's taken me two years to get this far. I guess I've never really had the drive to write like you or Miles.

But now time's almost up. Doc says there's not much more they can do for me. Miles nearly had a caniption when he found out, then he disappeared for a few months. Since I couldn't bother him anymore, I pissed the nursing staff off by putting Cancer on loop on my iPod and blasting it. Not a dry eye in the cancer ward. I heard later that Miles wrote a book in that time, and that it's now a national bestseller. Honestly, he abandons his dying brother for two months, and _that's _the best he could muster? Better win a damn Nobel next time. Well, I guess we can't all be as productive as me.

Damn. Miles is writing this for me now since I can't seem to lift my hands, and he's giving me a shit look to be reckoned with. You'd laugh if you could see it.

**It just ain't living  
>And I just hope you know<br>That if you say(If you say)  
>Goodbye today(Goodbye today)<br>I'd ask you to be true  
>('Cause I'd ask you to be true)<strong>

* * *

><p><em>A half hour later, Miles McAllistor allowed his brother to walk on his own out of the car and down the neatly paved path. Roger cast the occasional glance at the faceless names and meaningless numbers surrounding him on both sides, while all others in his company refused to look at them, wanting desperately to forget for only a little while that the once handsome boy before them would be joining the names soon.<em>

* * *

><p>Anyway, back to the point. I'm not sure if Chuck's right or not. Maybe I can't feel love, or empathy, or sorrow, but I do know one thing. I spent time in jail, I was harassed by guards, missed meals, got in prison yard fights, but there was one thing on my mind, my one and only regret: you. I know that if I was on the island again I'd do exactly what I did the first time. But that's my regret. I haven't changed enough that I could resist those urges, even to protect you. If there was one thing I could change, it'd be that. And if that's not sorry, then suck it up toots, it's as close as I'm getting.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Shaking like a leaf in a manner that gave his brother a near heart attack, Roger squatted down on the grass in front of one gray rock. He smiled at the numbers, traced the familiar letters of the name, and then, rather unceremoniously, set the papers on the ground and stood again. If one of his nurses or his brother had been listening closely enough, they would have heard him mutter, "Goodbye," as he pat the headstone and walked away.<em>

* * *

><p>I'm not the guy you'd recognize me as anymore. I lost my hair, my muscle shortly after, and any dignity I came in here with is long gone. With that muscle and countless partly digested meals gone, I weigh less than you did after the island. I managed to pick up the pencil to write these last words to you, since I know I only have weeks, maybe days, but I can't think of anything else to write for the life of me. I only hope that I've managed to even sort of convey the way I've felt since...since...well anyway. I wish I could continue, but after years of thinking, one thing I've learned is that...<p>

* * *

><p><em>Hardly a month after the moment the press had so been looking forward to, two months after his brother's book that made all the boys famous came out, Roger McAllistor joined the most unfortunate of the Flight 104 children survivors, and only one person with black eyes and a once smiling face came to the headstone that read:<em>

_Roger James McAllistor  
>October 12, 1997- January 5, 2015<em>

**'Cause the hardest part of this  
>Is leaving you<br>'Cause the hardest part of this  
>Is leaving you<strong>

* * *

><p>...sometimes there's just nothing left to say but goodbye.<p>

Sincerely,

Roger McAllistor

**Gah this is so sad I can't believe this story is ending! I'm sorry if this didn't make much sense, I promise it will after Going Under! IT's seriously so hard to end this story after two years of pouring in hours of work and putting so much of myself into this and now it's over! And I never could've done it without all of you, so it's thank you time!**

**Thank you to all 26 people who favorited this story, I wish I could thank all of you individually, but it's half an hour past my bedtime and I have school tomorrow! So you all know who you are, and know I know who you are and that I am so thankful for all of you. Up until about chapter 17 this only had 10 favorites and I didn't think anyone gave a shit about this story and you favoriting just meant so much to me!**

**Thank you to all the people who put this on alert. I know some people are more hesitant to favorite stories, so I understand if you didn't do that, I'm just so thankful that you cared enough to want to be emailed every time that I updated! You guys are just so loyal and that you stuck with me through all of this means so very much!**

**And, lastly, to all you reviewers and silent readers. It's you guys who made this story my third most popular on this site. It's you guys who made this the second most viewed story on FanFiction and that's just incredible! You guys have given me so much support over the last two years and so much useful feedback and ideas, this story wouldn't be what it is without all of you! So thank you all!**

**I lied, this is the lastly. Lastly is all my best friends, for inspiring traits in Erin, for being honest with me and telling me Erin's a goddamn sue when I needed to give her more flaws, and for making me feel like someone gave a damn about this story when reviews were still slow and rare.**

**Now that the thank yous are over, please watch out for Going Under, I've already got the first chapter written, and pleeeeeeeeaaase, I know this is the last chapter, but please review!**


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